#(I have a back yard also. it is Very Shaded. I love trees!!)

[elainemorisi]

due to Circumstances, I now have a persimmon seedling and a quince tree, and I am pretty enthused about this

[inf3ct3dd]

HARD WORK.

summary: your grandmas retirement to hawaii finally let you escape the annoying city life. but as it turns out, being a country girl aint easy work. luckily a hot stranger with a truck full of rakes and hoes has taken a liking to you.

gardener abby x black!oc

warnings: I AM A FREAK FOR GARDENER ABBY. little bit of creepy perv behavior, stalking, SEX

wc: 4.6k

authors note: heyyy guys miss u 😈 if anyone gaf i’ll post a part 2 cuz yk how i be… ts long as hell

abby noticed your presence about a week after you had moved.

she had recognized the yellow house, a familiar sight when she went on her drives to clear her head. it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. it was one of only three houses on the block, recognizable by the pale paint and the burnt orange front porch. she often wondered how the owners maintained it, as it was full of plants and trees. a big front yard with wildflowers, a cherry tree by the garage, and flower pots galore. its gorgeous. she also dreamed of what was behind the big door to the backyard, but she could see the faint sight of green trees from the top of it. its a beautiful house, no doubt. and the foliage was always kept perfect. bushes trimmed, lawn mowed, and the trees left the perfect shade for the summer time. she’d love to work there, but it seemed that the owners had it under control.

until you moved in.

after a while, she noticed the lawn becoming slightly overgrown, the bushes losing their shape, and the tree was dropping cherries all over the adorable pink slug bug in the driveway. she had taken that the original owners had moved out, but she had no idea who had replaced them. and clearly, that replacement had no idea how to tend to that house.

and then, she finally caught sight of you.

it was around about 3:30, if she remembered correctly. give or take five minutes. she was on her usual drive, exhausted and irritated from having to tell a woman that her grass would take at least a month to grow back from its butchered state. a bad raccoon problem left the entire yard torn, holes and dead yellow grass everywhere. but she had that off her mind now. she turned on her car stereo, old dad rock silencing her thoughts as she drove. the road you have to take to drive by the house is basically inside the forest. big, green trees on each side, a bumpy gravel road, and big hills. it was always a smooth ride, and the cool breeze from her window was a relief after sweating for 5 hours straight. she always hung her left arm out of the window, so much so that its slightly tanner than the other.

when she finally got to the house, she forgot everything she was thinking about. she even forgot where she was for a moment, making her stop the car.

she finally caught gaze of .. you. bent over the grass, seemingly trying to weed the garden. all she could see of you was your ass, and she wasn’t exactly complaining about the view. the denim shorts you were wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination. along with the booty shorts, (the name very fitting), you had on a green spaghetti strap that clung to you like a wet suit. you had clearly been out there for a while, sweat pooling on the shirt and a drop sliding down the obvious cleavage in your shirt. she tried so hard to pull away, to leave you alone and not be a creep, but she couldn’t. it was like everything was moving in slow motion as she was eyeing you, and she slowly made her way up to your face after staring at your tits for an inappropriate amount of time. you had thick, black curls, that were pulled up haphazardly into a high ponytail. probably to get it out of your way while you worked. its clear you take advantage of how remote your house is, sitting in the yard looking like that. its unsafe, what if a weird freak comes over and stares at you from his truck?

abby quickly realized that she was the weird freak in question. even with the headphones in your ears, you noticed the presence behind you. you felt the rumbling of the truck through the ground, given the fact you were barefoot. you turned around to look at her, moving a curl out of your eyes and behind your ear. you raised a brow at the truck, confused. you couldn’t make out the person inside, with your glasses resting on the porch. you squinted and saw a rough image of some..blond person? you stared for a while longer, almost considering walking up to them . what’re they looking at? were you that bad at gardening?

abby was frozen the second you turned around. she definitely stared longer than she should have, not even noticing that you were staring as well. you had a confused look on your face as you squinted over at her. it was almost as if you couldn’t see her. when she thought the two of you made eye contact, she instantly started driving away. she tried to pull away slowly, to not be suspicious, but she zoomed down the road like a derby horse.

fuck. did she see me?

almost as soon as you saw the car, it drove away. they must’ve noticed you caught them and got embarrassed. who is that? you had seen a blob that sort of looked like blonde hair, but not much else. it was hard to discern anything from that, so you focused on what you did see. you felt like you had seen the car before, but then again, so many people have black pickup trucks around here. and its not like it had any significant details you’d remember it by, it was just a plain truck. not even a funny bumper sticker or something! its like the exact opposite of your car, the back of your beetle is covered in cute stickers, and you even got heart shaped rims. their car was different. it was so…rugged. whoever it is probably does some sort of hard job, like construction or something.

you shrugged off the whole thing, getting a bit too sweaty for your liking and heading inside. you wondered to yourself if they’d stop by again, maybe you should keep an eye on your window!

while you were pondering over who the mysterious figure in the truck was, the figure herself was freaking out. she couldn’t stop imagining you on that lawn, seeing your confused face and glossy pout as you stared at her. did you even realize someone was looking at you? did you feel weird and scared now? was that the absolute most pervy thing she could’ve done?? and most importantly, would you notice if she did it again? she shook the thought as soon as it came. she was practically berating herself, mumbling “don’t be weird” under her breath. she tried to think about other things. the smell of the trees lining the road. the tree in your front yard. fuck, this is difficult.

eventually, she settled on thinking about your yard. she tried not to focus on the image of you bent over in front of it, and her behind you, and she slowly remembered something. you could not garden for shit. you had missed a bunch of huge strips mowing, the bushes were lopsided, and you were knee deep in weeds. it was obvious you had no idea what you were doing, and she knew it would be so easy to fix it.

“looks like you need some help.” she uttered from behind you on the front yard, and you turned around, puzzled.

“you think so?” you stared up at her, doe eyes nearly punching her in the chest. you were still sweaty, in the same tank top.

“yeah, you look hot. let me cool you off.” and with that, she grabbed at the bottom of the shirt. “can i”-

“abby. cut it out.” she pulled herself out of the daydream, realizing she had stopped her car once again. thankfully, the road was completely empty, so she kept driving. there wasn’t anything worth staring at over here, so she kept it pushing. freak.

she tried to push whatever happened earlier to the back of her mind all day. but its like she got hypnotized. she drove up to her house, and she stupidly expected to see you in her front yard. she went inside, and she wondered what the inside of your house looked like. does she have carpet? what color are her walls?

she quickly shut down the thought of “walls” as an…untasteful image appeared in her head. she took a shower, a near freezing one, and she imagined what type of showers you like. or if you were even a shower person, maybe you liked baths. you’d probably shriek if you stepped into the shower and it was the wrong temperature. she imagined you sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the water run over your fingers until it was justtt right. she imagined you sitting down in the tub, and - nothing. she didn’t imagine anything else.

she cooked herself some pasta for dinner, and sat down on her couch to eat. do you like spaghetti? she started thinking about that scene in the lady and the tramp, except you and her replaced the dogs. once again, she shut that down right after she started. she ate her food and threw her dishes in the sink, almost running to her bedroom. because she was tired. no other reason.

you had gotten a call from your grandma a little while after you went inside. you didn’t necessarily want to talk to anyone right now, but you owed it to her after she basically gave her house to you for free. she talked for what felt like forever, about her new house, the beach, everything. and after a million “really”s and “oh wow”s, she asked you to show her the house.

you showed her around the inside first, panning around the living room, kitchen, and all the rooms, she was very satisfied with how clean you kept the house. its easy to take care of when its just you making the messes, and not an aggravating messy roomate. you felt like a lonely housewife who’s husband left for war.

afterwards, you went out into the backyard. her smiling face turned into a confused grimace within seconds.

“honey, who did the lawn?” she asked, so much concern in her voice you’d assume she just walked in on a crime scene.

“i did! doesn’t it look good?” you chimed, confused on why she sounds like you’ve just killed a man.

“…no. it looks like a hot mess. you missed like, three spots! and lord, what did you do to my bushes?” she let out a loud sigh.

“…i trimmed them?” your pride was wiped off your face, a small frown replacing it.

“i don’t even wanna see the front. you know what, you need to find a gardener. someone. as long as its not you. ill pay for it myself, just…don’t touch anything.”

“at least my plants aren’t dead and the grass is still green.” she mumbled under her breath, hanging up the phone.

where the hell are you gonna find a gardener?

with your spirits crushed, you sat with your computer and your glasses resting on your nose, “how to fix a messed up lawn” reflecting on the glass. r/lawncare said to leave it and let it re-grow before mowing it again, evenly. wait at least a week or two and keep watering it. but don’t touch it.

so, you decided to listen. the gardener hunt could wait till later, you were sleepy. you ended up dozing off on the couch watching chopped, and you had forgotten all about it by the morning.

abby however, can’t forget anything.

after a long, sleepless night, abby was running out of things to distract herself. why was she going borderline insane over some random girl? she’s seen hot girls before. were you a witch or something?

she went through her day with the same irritating questions going through her head. what does she listen to when she drives? what does she order at the coffee shop? whats her name?

she realized by the time she was on her lunch break she needed to answer at least one of her questions. she already knew where you lived, whats the harm in knowing your name?

she had slightly known your grandma, only the fact that they owned the farm that was down the road from the house. and that it was named after their last name. small town advantage, am i right?

after googling the last name, a facebook profile showed up. presumably exactly who she thought it was. she scrolled through pictures of her at the beach, on family vacation, unfunny memes,and a post that made her chuckle for a whole minute.

she knew she was in the right place now.

after scrolling for a while longer, she found exactly what she was looking for: a picture of you and the woman, your arm slung around her shoulder. you looked like you were at a wedding, all dolled up in a green satin dress with your hair down. you were wearing glasses, too.

“so she probably didn’t see me.”

you looked just as gorgeous as yesterday, and the picture was captioned “my beautiful granddaughter r ♥️💐😘🥰” and there was many more of her old lady friends and relatives calling you gorgeous. didn’t she know it.

she typed the name , your name, into facebook yet again, and there you were. the profile picture was of you as a baby, little black curls pulled into two pigtails as you grabbed at the camera with a cheesy smile. albeit, you only had two teeth, but it was definitely a smile. you’ve just always been cute, huh?

she looked down at the bio, and found everything else she needed to know. whos idea was it to make people give facebook all their personal information?

it was obvious this account was just for family, as it was mostly just reposts of your relatives posts and pictures she would deem “family friendly.” but the pictures were mostly of things other than you, like cats and pretty buildings you saw. it gave off the perfect, innocent impression to anyone who’d come across it.

but after finding your facebook, it didn’t take her much longer to find your instagram. and your tiktok. and your tumblr from when you were in highschool? maybe she was digging a little too deep.

your instagram wasn’t that stark of a contrast to your facebook. add a little more cleavage, and a much more active..social life, and it was basically the same. you hadn’t posted much with your friends in a while though, only stills of your plane and you relaxing in your new home. tough time making friends over here?

she snooped even more into your following, and at first there wasn’t anything really interesting. some music artists you liked, random cat accounts, and baking accounts. cute. but, after a while, she recognized something. the name of the place you worked at that she saw on your facebook. a veterinary office. the profile mostly had pictures of cats and dogs and some smaller animals, but when she saw a post about the offices pet fundraiser, she immediately recognized your face. cheesy smile, holding up a small kitten to your cheek. it was adorable.

she looked up the address in the account’s bio, and she saw that it was a 5 minute drive from her house. perfect coincidence. alice would love to take a walk after work today, wouldn’t she?

her snooping was interrupted by the alarm she had set for the end of her break. startled, she slightly jumped out of her seat before swinging her door open and plopping her phone in her back pocket. she knew what her plans for this afternoon were.

while abby was scheming up her stalkerish plans, you were just.. bored. you sat at the front desk, doodling one of the dogs you saw come in earlier with one earbud in your ear, fleetwood mac giving you soft background music to the emptiness of the lobby. with it being tuesday and all, it wasn’t very busy. your shift didn’t end for a few hours though, and you would rather be bored than busy.

you decided to people watch outside the window for a bit. you saw an old lady walking around with another old lady, holding coffee cups from the cafe down the street. they were engrossed in conversation, and you tried to lip read, but could only make up a few nonsensical words before they disappeared out of your view. a man walked by with his disgruntled teen daughter, headphones pulled over her ears with an annoyed grimace. once again, it looked like the father was saying something, but you had no idea what.

after a few more people walked past, you saw someone who actually…caught your eye. it was a tall blonde woman, hair weaved neatly into a braid that rested on her right shoulder. she had on a black tshirt that showed of her toned arms, and grey cargo pants with green grass stains on them. you tried to glance at her face, but she was facing the side. all you could really see was the outline of her curved nose, and the soft shape of her lips. her side profile looked perfectly carved, like a statue. she had on black over the ear headphones too, and she was holding a leash to a big german shepherd. shes hot, and she has a dog? you subconsciously started fixing your hair, just in case she was walking in here. she stopped near the door, and you nearly pounced to greet her. but your excitement was cut short when you saw her walk slightly further, and pull out a small stack of papers and a roll of tape. was she putting up fliers?

you watched her place one on the light post outside your building, holding the tape in her mouth as she did so. you tried hard not to drool all over your desk as you watched her. you couldnt make out what the paper said as she walked away, and you wasted no time going outside to see what it was.

and when you finally approached it, you felt as god himself was giving you an offering. the flier read "abby anderson gardening services.” there was a small graphic of a pretty flower, and an even more captivating image of the woman who had put up the flier. abby, that’s a sweet name.

you quickly ripped off one of the small pieces of paper on the bottom of the flier, placing it in your sweater pocket before skipping back into your work gleefully. a hot girl who was gonna save you from your gardening dilemma? somebody pinch you.

abby hadn’t had the smallest confidence her plan had worked. her heart was practically beating out of her chest, and the questions kept on pouring in. did she even see? will she even notice? what if she did see, and she recognized me as the freak who was ogling her outside her house? she planned all this perfectly. she spent 3 hours last night making those stupid fliers. scrolling through a million different fonts, searching through her camera roll for good pictures, she needed it to be as believable as possible. she had parked her truck well out of view a few blocks away, carried extra fliers, and brought alice with her to try and hide her true intentions. normal gardener walking her dog and putting up fliers, thats all she was. definitely not a weirdo that saw a girl pruning her front yard and got so hot and bothered that she devised a whole plan that would maybe get her to call her.

she shook her head, practically trying to shake away her thoughts, and she kept on walking.

you were telling yourself that you’d call her right when you got off work.

and after sitting on your bed for 5 minutes staring at her number typed into your phone, it was tomorrow.

and then tomorrow, it was the day after that.

the fear made absolutely no sense to you. you’re calling a gardener! whats the worst shes gonna say? ‘oh no, im not gardening for you because you’re stupid and also im going to run you over with my lawn mower.’ its her job to do this!! you had even saved her number in your phone as “hot gardener” so you wouldn’t forget her.

you were silently hoping that youd see her around somewhere. she’d approach you, start some dumb conversation, suddenly bring up the fact that shes a gardener, and then you get your “really? i’ve been looking for one!” moment. perfect meet cute.

but its like she vanished into thin air.

every time you went to work, or even out shopping, you were dolled up for no reason. wearing shirts with extra cleavage, making sure you have on lipgloss constantly, you were not taking any chances. even when you were doing the most mundane activities, you swiped on a layer of mascara before you left the house. just in case. but your luck wasn’t striking you at all. does she not live in the neighborhood?

abby definitely lived in the neighborhood. after checking her flier and seeing a missing phone number, she spent the whole night waiting for her phone to ring. she did anything and everything to try and keep her busy, which included cleaning her entire apartment and stalking your instagram. you had posted a picture of your cat on your story. cute.

after almost 5 hours of waiting around, she was pacing around her living room like a tiger in captivity. every notification she got she pounced at her phone, but she was continuously disappointed. no manny, i don’t want to go out tonight. dont ever text my phone again and also i hate you.

it was around 12:45 when her phone finally rang. she picked up instantly, barely letting it ring. she cleared her throat and tried to feign nonchalance in her voice. but instead of your sweet voice asking about her lawn, it was a telemarketer. she threw her phone on the couch and collapsed on her floor. it was gonna be a long night..

the next day, she knew she needed to check on you. what if something had happened? or, worse, what if you weren’t even the one who took the phone number? she came back the same way she did the first time she saw you, driving a liiiittle too slow past the vet office. and low and behold, you were perfectly fine. sat at the front desk talking to some girl with a cat. and when she looked at the flier, there was still only one slip missing. maybe you forgot?

she drove away, a childish pout on her face. it was pathetic , really.

when she was at the grocery store on the second day of waiting , that she definitely didn’t drive an extra five minutes to because it was close to you, she nearly had a heart attack when she saw you in the cereal aisle. cute hoodie and shorts on with your hair down. you seemed like you were having a hard time deciding between two cereals, holding the boxes next to each other and squinting. she imagined herself going up to you and delivering some smooth one liner about cereal that she was still trying to come up with, and carrying your groceries and you to your car. but as much as she wanted to, she kept her distance. heavily. she was looking around every five minutes like a shoplifter so she wouldn’t bump into you.

but not touching didn’t mean she couldn’t look. she saw you finally chuck the fruity pebbles into your basket, squeeze half the mangos on the display before picking one, and you last minute deciding to buy a pack of gum when you were checking out. she tried her hardest to not be jealous of the scrawny bag boy you smiled at, and when she finally saw you check out, she remembered she was supposed to be getting stuff for dinner. shit.

and the day after that, when she stopped at the gas station by your street because it was ‘cheaper’, she recognized your beetle in two seconds. she watched you step into the little mini market, clad in a pair of jean shorts and a random t shirt from a theme park , and she watched you walk out with a bag of hot cheetos as she pumped her gas. she had gotten a closer look at your bumper stickers, and she saw a small heart with a sunset flag. she couldn’t help but do a little fist pump when she got in her car.

none of her research was giving her any clarity though. she kept driving past her flier, day after day, and not a single other person had picked up a slip. was it even you who took it? are you gonna hire some other stupid gardener you found on your phone?

and on the third day, she had stayed home. she was beginning to give up hope you’d ever call, and she would never make a move first. especially if you had accidentally seen her on one of her little ventures. so, she cleaned her house again. she even dusted, thats how bored she was. the thoughts of you were constantly plaguing her. she almost took up mannys offer to go out tonight, try and get her mind off things.

but her mind stayed in the exact same place. her mind replayed the memory of you in the lawn yet again. she remembered the sweat dripping down your chest, the way your shorts were riding right up your thighs. she shoved her hand down her pants and imagined that they were yours.

she remembered how nice and smooth your voice sounded on the videos she saw. even though you never said much, even her imagining it made her even wetter. she kept rubbing her middle finger up and down her clit, picturing you whispering in her ear.

“you’re such a fucking creep. you keep watching me at work, following me around, and now you’re fucking yourself to me? we’ve never even met. you’re acting like a desperate slut for some random girl, you’re not embarrassed?”

the dialogue she was imagining in her head was getting her further and further. she almost imagined you saying it, the voice being strange and inconsistent to her. still, she moved faster, hearing the noise her slick covered fingers made as she moved. she kept letting out heavy breaths, flexing her hips upwards onto her hand.

“you know, you could’ve just come up to talk to me. how pathetic are you? can’t even talk to a girl?”

she imagined your breath on her neck, watching her. if she focused enough, she could feel the indent in her bed of you next to her. she started moving even faster, letting out loud moans as she pressed down on her clit even harder. she arched her back as she did, pushing her head against her headboard. she could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and she was practically humping her hand. she got sweatier and sweatier, the blanket covering her lower half not making it any better.

“are you really this desperate? you could-“

abbys fantasy was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing next to her. right when she was close. fuck. she nearly abandoned the phone call, but then the thought crossed her hazy mind. what if it was you?

so she wiped her hands on her boxers , took a deep breath, and answered her phone.

she tried not to get her hopes up, worried it might be another telemarketer. annoyed at the fact that she gave up cumming for some random person.

“hello? is this..-abby?”

[cellythefloshie]

;; All Too Well (10-Minute Version) Written for The Eras Tour Hockeyblr Fic Challange

Summary: Love blossoms quickly, but fades even faster. When a chance meeting at a cocktail party introduces you to Vince, your whirlwind connection feels like the beginning of something lasting. But as seasons change, so do intentions. Kinks & TW: age gap (younger reader), implied car sex, toxic relationship, unprotected sex — the smut in this fic is REALLY mild. Like blink and you miss it, because it just didn't fit the vibes like I had expected it to. There was so much more story to tell. Word Count: 14.9k+ Author Notes: A huge thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this challenge together. I have found myself to be a blossoming Swiftie since the release of Midnights, so I was very excited to take part! And it was very much a challenge to me (though @hockeyboysimagines would probably argue differently) when I received All Too Well as my song. This was a song I had listened to 2 times before this fic. Once upon its release while watching the video, and again while watching The Eras Tour when it was released on streaming platforms. So I had this song on repeat a lot while planning and writing this fic. I would also like to say a huge THANK YOU to @laurenairay who was sweet enough to review my outline AND the fic when it was complete because I was terrified that I was missing key points to the song and needed another Swiftie's opinion. This is a well loved song, and therefore an intimidating song. I hope I did it justice ❤️ This fic is also posted in chapters on Archive of Our Own.

As the bright orange and turquoise taxi drove further from the heart of downtown Toronto, the more out of place it became. Towering buildings became squat, and traffic thinned as it traveled over the smooth streets. Soon, buildings did not stand side by side with nothing but a mere alley between them, Yards began to sprawl and trees stood tall as your ride took you further into what you called cottage country - though it was nothing more than a quiet neighborhood that had Lake Ontario at their doorstep. 

It was a long ride from the city, and you kept yourself busy in the back of the taxi. You fixed your hair with the help of the rearview mirror and a few bobby pins. Next, you fixed your makeup, taking it from day to night with a little more mascara and a darker shade of lipstick. Then, you checked your phone, rereading the message from your best friend:

Dinner and cocktails tonight, dress for the occasion. 

Sighing softly, you looked down at the slinky slip dress that had spent the day in the bottom of your purse. It was a color that was your favorite, but no matter how desperately you smoothed your hands over the fabric, you could still see the wrinkles left behind. It was a little detail you would have to force yourself to ignore, and one you hoped no one else would notice. You fiddled with the fabric until you felt the taxi come to the stop at your destination. 

You looked up at the crowded driveway first, taking a nervous breath through your teeth as you noticed how many cars were parked along it and down the street. Your eyes lingered on the cars as you dug through your purse for your wallet. Then you looked at your driver, smiling as you paid your fare and thanked him for the ride. As you stepped out of the back seat, your heels clicking again on the pavement, feelings of excitement and nerves swirled in your chest. Sweaty palms attempted to smooth out the fabric of your dress one last time before you approached the house. At first, all you could hear was the sound of your own footsteps, but as you grew closer, you could already hear the hum of conversation and clinking glasses before you could cross the threshold of the door. 

When you reached the large, heavy door, you wasted no time knocking. You didn’t need to. Your best friend’s place was practically your second home. Besides, no one would have heard it, anyway. Inside, the warm glow of the chandelier greeted you in the entryway. There was no one there to greet you, but you could hear the beckoning of voices in the dining room. Taking a deep breath, you tucked your purse away with the coats and delved into the party as if you were walking into the cold of the lake: one toe at a time. 

Moving into the dining room, you wore a soft smile to hide the panic that festered in the back of your mind. You didn’t recognize anyone - and judging by the side eyes they greeted you with; they didn’t recognize you either. Great. 

Hands flexing into fists before relaxing at your side, you moved deeper into the dining room and found the table set up with drinks and finger food to hold everyone over until dinner was served. You took a flute of champagne between your fingers, and for a moment considered grabbing two. Smiling, you reached out for a second glass, but then you heard your friend excitedly greeting you. So you settled on one. 

You sipped your sweet champagne slowly as you turned in place, your lips curling up along the rim of the glass at the sight of your best friend. She was stunning, dressed in a white cocktail gown that fluttered around her knees as she seemed to glide through the room. She looked almost ethereal in the light, the perfect host, and the beautiful bride to be. Your lips parted to compliment her, your arms opening to accept her incoming hug, but you teased her instead, “I didn’t realize you knew so many people.”

She laughed into your hair before she pulled back, her arm looping through yours. “Blame my fiance. This is practically his event. All of his teammates, plus their wives and girlfriends. Some family and friends too. Thought hosting a night at the house was the least we could do after having everyone travel in for the wedding—and speaking of the least I could do…” her words trailed off as she looked around the room for something - or someone, “... I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

Your interest piqued, your eyebrow raising as she led you through the home and into the backyard. The deck seemed to glow in the dim light of fairy lights. But the fire that burned down below, where a group of men gathered, burned brighter. Some had women on their arms, like subtle accessories, as the men seemed to hold the conversation, while others stood alone. Behind them all as they stood together, dressed in relaxed suits and party dresses as they drank from champagne flutes or crisp aluminum cans, the sun sunk low on the horizon. 

Among them was your best friend’s fiance, his smile easy and welcoming as you approached. It attracted your friends like gravity, her arm slipping away from yours and she glided to him, fitting into the group so effortlessly that, for a moment, it left you feeling out of place. You took a long, nervous sip of your drink that almost left you choking as she returned her attention to you. She beckoned you with the simple wave of her arm, enticing you to join the circle around the dancing flames. 

“Everyone, this is my best friend,” she finished the introduction with your name. 

“The one she never shuts up about,” her husband teased her, earning a playful slap from the back of her hand against his chest. 

You laughed along with everyone softly, quietly finding your place among the group, intending to be nothing more but a wallflower until dinner time. That was until she was speaking your name again to capture your attention. Then, she was calling out to someone else, “Vince, hey!”

When you saw who exactly she was speaking to, your stomach did a small flip that made it feel knotted. Vince was just on the other side of the crowd, lost in laughter, until his name cut through the conversation. Your friend’s voice had demanded attention in an instant and he answered it with a smile that sent a rush of warmth through you. Suddenly you devoted attention completely to him, the world narrowing just to him and the party suddenly gone. Looking at Vince was like looking at a Disney Prince. His dark hair that curled just above his forehead, and his green eyes that paled in the amber glow of the fire. Your gaze fixated on his stare as he moved around the crowd and closer to you—and when his eyes flickered away from your friend and to you for a mere moment, you could see a glimmer of something there. What that was, you would have to figure out. 

“This is the friend I was telling you about,” your friend smiled and with the introduction made she found her place at her fiance’s side. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Vince spoke. His voice was smooth and warm like velvet as he extended his hand out to clasp yours. You shook it slowly, your touch lingering as your pulse pounded against the delicate flesh of your neck. 

“I wish I could say the same,” you admitted slowly, trying to calm the thoughts that raced through your mind, “but I appear to be at a disadvantage. Seems she talks a lot more about me than she has to me about you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Your words had come off harsher than you had meant to. But it was just the reality of it all. Your best friend hadn’t spoken of Vince at all. No texts, no calls. All you knew of him was what you could see on the surface, but you knew better than to judge a book by its pretty cover. And while you hoped your appearance alone would make a good first impression, you didn’t want Vince walking away with superficial feelings.

The two of you talked until dinner time, scraping the mere surface of your lives. You told him what you did for work, and how he had spent his summer training for the next season of hockey. Conversation had flown with ease, and it left you disappointed as you both went your separate ways in the dining room. You circled the table slowly, watching as people slowly found their way into place seated in front of their place card. 

Of course, she would have assigned seating. 

You had hoped that you would spend your night seated beside your friend, but now you would be stuck making small talk with strangers. You took a desperate sip of your drink as you rounded the table, chugging back the harsh bubbles of your champagne as you found your place card at the opposite end of the table, right next to Vince. 

You smiled inwardly at your friend’s not-so-subtle matchmaking move. While you wish she had been a little more coy, it was one you couldn’t help but appreciate. 

The conversation reignited between you and Vince with soft pleasantries - before the first course finished; his easy humor left you laughing. Vince was funny, effortlessly making you laugh in ways that made you laugh in ways that you forget strangers surrounded you and you were doing your best to play it cool. Throughout dinner, the conversation flowed easily between you and Vince. The clatter of plates and mummer of voices faded into the background as you lost track of time, engrossed in his stories, his laugh and the way his eyes seemed to linger on yours. Vince made you feel like the only person at the table, and despite what you learned to be a seven-year age gap, the two of you shared an undeniable spark that you couldn’t quite explain. 

The conversation you shared over dinner felt intimate. Almost like a first date, though you were surrounded by people—or at least, you thought you were. As time slipped by, the two of you didn’t notice how the table cleared around you, or how the guests had slipped away until it was just the two of you that remained. Only did you notice when your friend approached, her evening wear replaced with a fluffy robe and a sleepy smile on her face. 

“Do I need to get a room ready for you?” she teased gently, her eyes flicking between you and Vince. 

You gasped out a soft apology, only then realizing just how late it had gotten. “No, I should really just catch a cab home.”

You stood quickly; the chair dragging harshly across the floor as you quickly moved to gather your things. Your cheeks were red hot with embarrassment at how you let yourself get carried away with him - but he didn’t seem to mind. He followed just behind you in your stride, gathering his own coat that now hung alone next to your own. 

“Let me walk you out?” He offered gently. 

You accepted the offer with your own smile, your eyes falling to your feet as he opened the front door. The night air was cool, a welcome relief from the warmth of the party. It left you shrugging on your coat as you walked together down the driveway, your steps slow and hesitant. You didn’t want the night to end, not when Vince had made what you expected to be an awkward night one you didn’t want to forget. You reached the end of the driveway together, waiting awkwardly at the curb for your taxi to arrive, but it was the first moment that night the two of you were truly alone. 

That thought gave you butterflies in your stomach as you watched him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. “Here, put your number in?”

“Yeah,” you smiled a little too wide as you reached into your bag and pulled out your own phone. You traded them, and you added yourself as a contact in his phone. As you returned his phone to him, the subtle touch of his fingers against your hand leaving you to hold your breath, a taxi arrived and parked at the end of the drive. 

“You take the first one,” Vince told you, stepping towards the taxi to open the door for you. He gave you just enough room to slip inside before he was leaning down, one arm on the door of the cab and the other over the top. If it were anyone else, you might have panicked, feeling confined in the tiny back seat of the taxi, but as stupid as it was, you felt safe with Vince. 

“Goodnight,” he said, his smile soft as his eyes left yours to linger on your lips for just a moment before he closed the door behind you. 

You leaned your head back against the seat, silently cursing how pathetic you were for wishing he had tried to kiss you. Biting your lip, you rolled the window down, and leaned your head out of it, echoing his voice with your own feeble, “goodnight.”

You settled into your seat with a sinking heart. Your night was over. Meeting the eyes of your driver in the rearview mirror, you gave him the address of home and you left your friend's home and Vince behind you. But your thoughts remained on Vince — the way he made you laugh, the way his presence made the whole evening feel different. Special. You didn’t know what had started that night, but you knew something was there, and you could wait to see where it would go. 

Your best friend’s wedding had been beautiful, but it paled in comparison to what continued to grow between you and Vince in the week that followed. Seemingly overnight, the two of you had become inseparable. If you weren’t together, you were always texting or calling, your connection seeming to grow deeper with each casual date you shared. It was like the last days of summer, hot and vibrant. But as the days became consumed by the cooler temperature that would become autumn, whatever you and Vince shared only continued to grow. 

Friday of the September long weekend, he picked you up from your downtown Toronto apartment, and the two of you took to the road. The city skyline was shrinking behind you, seen only in the rearview mirror. You didn’t know where Vince was taking you, but you didn’t need to. You were happy just being there with him, one of his hands on the wheel while the other rested comfortably on your knee. The radio was turned up loud. Shania Twain’s greatest hits the soundtrack of your road trip, her lyrics leaving both of your lips as you sang along. You danced in your seat, the seatbelt the only thing holding you back as you felt the music. And Vince sang, his tone carefree and out of tune as his thumb moved in slow, lazy circles on your knee. Your eyes dropped, watching the careful stroke, smiling as you sang. 

But then your gaze shifted upward, and the world around you snapped back into focus. The glow of the solid red light was harsh against your eyes, but the car was still moving full speed. Vince hadn’t even tried to slow down, because instead of looking at the lights, he had been looking over at you. 

“Vince!” you shouted, pointing towards the red light. 

His head whipped around, his soft expression hardening with alarm as his foot slammed onto the brake. The car screeched to a stop, your seatbelt restricting around your chest as your body jerked forward before falling back against the seat. 

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the radio and the sound of your hastened breaths as the shock of what could have been hung over you both. Then Vince turned in his seat, the seatbelt straining against his chest as he looked at you. He reached out with both hands, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he looked you over with his eyes that were left wide with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking your skin as if to soothe the shock that left you feeling sick to your stomach.

You nodded, your heart still pounding against your chest. And then he kissed you. The touch of his lips against yours brought an instant calm. He brushed over yours so sweetly, so gently, that it washed away all the tension, and when he pulled back, his kiss lingered in the calm between you until an impatient honk from the car broke it. 

The light had turned green. 

Pulling back, Vince smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back, leaning your head against the seat as you relaxed. You let it lull to the side, watching the trees as they passed, their leaves only just beginning to change from their vibrant greens to shades of gold and crimson and had yet to fall lazily to the ground. You watched them until you noticed the car turn off the main road. The anticipation built as the car wound its way up a long driveway lined with trees. You sat up straight in your seat at the sight of the house at the end of the drive. It was a cozy home, nestled against the horizon where the sun was already beginning to set. Your hands gripped into fists in your lap nervously. Vince hadn’t told you where you were going. You didn’t know whose house this was, or why you were there. So as he switched the music off, you looked to him for answers. 

“Come on, it and meet everybody,” he said with an easy smile, and he was already climbing out of the car before you had the chance to answer. 

“Everyone?” You muttered to yourself, slowly stepping out of the car to hear a small crunch beneath your feet. Looking down, you narrowed your eyes. A child’s toy? Kneeling down, you picked up the broken pieces and cradled them in your hands. Then you looked out over the sprawling yard, taking in the little details you hadn’t quite noticed on the drive up. The yard was alive with the signs of a family. Scattered in the grass were children’s toys, and a small play structure with swings sat in the shadow of the house. You could even hear faint laughter in the distance. For a moment, you stood still, taking it all in before following the path Vince had taken inside. 

The front door swung open to a rush of warmth that graced your cheeks like a kiss. It came from both the heat of the house, and the feeling of home that lingered there. You didn’t know what quite gave you the feeling. It could have been the soft lighting from decorative table lamps, the scent of a home cooked meal that lingered in the air, or the symphony of voices you could hear in the next room - or a combination of them all - but it all put you at ease. The unfamiliar place felt so familiar as you stepped out of your shoes and hung your red scarf and coat over the bannister where other coats were already piled. 

With the broken toy in hand, you walked deeper into the house, where many unfamiliar faces greeted you. The first, after a quick introduction, you learned was Vince’s mother, who smiled at you warmly and pulled you into a soft hug. Then, there was his brother and his wife who welcomed you into their home as if you were no stranger at all. Vince’s step-father was too caught up with the kids to offer much more than a quick hello and a smile, but it all still felt natural, so easy. Like you belonged there. 

“I’m sorry,” you told Vince’s sister-in-law with a soft voice, “I stepped on one of the toys in the yard.”

You offered the pieces to her on the bed of your palms, but she waved it off like it was nothing. 

“They have so many they won’t even notice this one’s gone,” she assured with a soft smile. And while you just met her, her smile felt genuine. “Mom and I were just going to finish up dinner. Would you like to join us in the kitchen?”

You shot a quick side-eyes glance to Vince, his nephew’s swarmed him, taking all of his attention. Their laughter rang throughout the room as they clung to his legs, pulling him towards the games they were playing with their grandfather. You got lost in the sight of his care and gentleness with the children, but also the carefree silliness that sent them wild with laughter. A part of you wanted to join him, but Vince had brought you there to meet his family, so you offered his sister-in-law a smile and followed her into the kitchen. 

There wasn’t much more to be done for dinner. Vince’s brother had chicken and ribs out on the barbeque, leaving the rest of you to work on the sides. You were quickly assigned to chopping up vegetables for a salad. But Vince’s mother, who snuck into the kitchen with a photo album, quickly interrupted your duties cradled in her arms. 

“You have to see these,” she said, a mischievous smile on her lips as she opened the album up in an open space on the counter. You stood alongside her as she flipped through the pages, your smile growing when you saw a young Vince among the photographs. He couldn’t have been more than five in the picture, and wore a pair of thick glasses on his face, and a shy smile on his lips as he sat on his bed in his bedroom that was decorated floor to ceiling with Toronto Maple Leafs memorabilia. 

“That’s him,” Tracy confirmed, her words laced with a laugh that was warm like a mother's embrace, “back when he was on the Timbits team. His grandfather took him to every single game.” The stories flowed easily, and you couldn’t help but laugh as Tracy pointed at another picture of Vince. He was around the same age in the last picture, but this time, he was beaming proudly as he stood in his oversized hockey equipment. “He used to trip over his skates more than he’d actually skate.”

Leaning over the book, you admired each photograph and welcomed each story his mother offered to tell. You were so completely enthralled in the moment that you didn’t even notice Vince approaching until his one arm was around your shoulders and the other rested around his mothers. He planted a quick kiss on your cheek, yet he was the one with flushed cheeks, embarrassed. 

“You’re telling stories, aren’t you?” Vince grinned as he reached out for the family photo album. He shut it slowly before reaching it up to place it on a shelf up high and out of reach. 

“Oh, you’re no fun,” his mother teased. “Why bring a girl home if that means I don’t get to embarrass you?”

“You do that well enough without breaking out the photo albums,” he assured, pressing a kiss to her temple before he took his place next to you. He offered you a sweet smile before reaching out for the knife you had abandoned and continued with your work in the kitchen. You helped him where he could. His presence beside you felt easy - like you were already part of the family, fitting so effortlessly into his line. 

That feeling only grew throughout the evening. It felt right, like the changing of the seasons-natural, inevitable, and beautiful. 

When it had come time to leave, the sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting a deep indigo hue over the world outside. The air was cool, the warmth of the house fading as you and Vince stepped out onto the front porch. Both hands raised to clutch at the breast of your jacket, trying to keep the chill of the night from your neck as the cold enveloped you. A single hand clutched the neck of your coat, your steps stuttering down the steps as you realized you had forgotten your scarf on the banister. But before you could go back, before you could even say a word, Vince was smiling at you as he tossed his car keys at you. 

Your eyes went wide, your hands reaching out only to fumble for them. The keys jingled as they hit the ground, his keychain half buried in the dirt. It left your hands dusty as you knelt down and picked it up from where they rested at your feet. 

“You drive,” Vince smiled at you playfully, “we’re just going up the road.”

The soft glow of the porch light cast a soft twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. You mirrored his soft smile as you gripped the cool metal of his keys in your hand and moved towards the car. It was another small, simple moment between the two of you, yet your stomach fluttered full of butterflies every time. You didn’t know if it was excitement, nerves or the anxiety of knowing that summer was over and autumn was to begin and all of what you had in just a week could be gone. But you didn’t dwell on it. Instead, you slipped into the driver's seat, taking the time to adjust the mirrors, and started the engine. 

Its rumble cut through the stillness of the night, the grinding of rubber tired against gravel roads, the new soundtrack of your night as you drove down the quiet country road. It was lined with trees that cast long shadows across the ground, their leaves beginning to bare as their leaves changed from the brilliant green of summer to the gold and maroons of fall. 

Vince sat, relaxed in the passenger seat beside you, his seat leaned back and his arm draped casually across the back of your seat. It remained there during the short drive down the road, one that led you to a secluded dead end nestle deep within the property. You looked around, the car lights illuminating the trees and brush around you. Then, suddenly, the light was gone, and darkness surrounded you. You almost jumped, startled, before you realized Vince’s hand had left the back of your seat and he had reached across and turned off the engine. Then, without a word, his hand fell to your seatbelt. He unbuckled it with the simple press of two fingers before his hands, gentle but insistent, found your hip. Vince guided you across the center console and into his lap. 

Your knees rested on each side of him, squished between the car door, the console, and his body. It left the passenger seat feeling small, intimate, as you shifted your weight just right to comfortably settle against him. Your hands came to rest on the car seat, on each side of his head, but Vince’s hands came up to stroke loose strands of hair from your face. The gesture made your heart race, the world outside the car falling away, leaving you both seemingly the only two people in it. Then, with his hand still lingering on your cheek, Vince drew you in, and placed a slow kiss on your lips. 

His kiss sent a wave of warmth to spread through your body, your breath hitching in the back of your throat. You shuddered in his lap, your lips meeting his sweet and gentle kiss that became deeper as he felt your eagerness to kiss and be kissed by him. Slowly, his hands strayed from the angles of your face, his feather light touch dragging down your body. His touch coasted over your shoulder, knocking your cardigan sleeve down your arm and teasing the exposed skin with the ghost of his touch before each of his hands settled on the swell of your hip. His grip tightened there, drawing you closer, your skirt inching up your thigh, and you let out a soft sound. It was not quite a moan, but more than a sigh, as your stomach swirled with the dance of butterflies. Your entire body was buzzing with the electric, weightless feeling—it felt like you might float away if Vince dared to let you go. 

His hands didn’t leave you as you finally pulled back, breathless, your eyes meeting him in a dreamy stare. Taking a shuddering breath, your teeth caught your swollen bottom lip as his fingertips slipped beneath your skirt. His touch graced parts of you he was only just discovering as he whispered out, “I leave after the long weekend.” 

His words were soft, almost apologetic, and hung in the air between you like a heavy weight. It sent your heart sinking a little in your chest, the reality of his departure setting in. It felt like a goodbye, your week-long whirlwind romance coming to its harsh and bitter end, as you should have expected from the start. Yet, a small voice inside you couldn’t help but wonder why Vince had made it more than just a fling. Why had gone through the trouble of taking you to meet his family if he was just going to leave? 

You dwelled on that thought, your gaze leaving him to look out the window at the darkness that swallowed everything beyond the car window. You saw nothing but the blackness of night, your bite on your own lip growing sharper until Vince’s words cut through the quiet and eased your racing mind. “I want to fly you out to see me in Seattle when the preseason is over. Would you do that for me?”

His words sparked something inside you, excitement - no, hope - replacing the sinking feeling in your chest. Maybe this didn’t have to end today. You nodded quickly, your hair falling back into your face. It brought Vince’s touch back up to your face, his hands brushing it back behind your ear as he chuckled softly. 

“Good,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss you again. But this time, the kiss was deeper, more urgent.

You parted your lips for him, welcoming the taste of his tongue as it met yours. The intoxication of his kiss left your head spinning in the best way. Your hands ran up over his chest, wrinkling the simple fabric of his t-shirt, wishing you could peel it off of him. You were ready; you wanted more, and as if he could read your mind, Vince’s hands inched higher up your skirt. 

Your hold tilted back as you gasped, a single hand reaching out and finding the cold glass of the car window. It slipped briefly over the slick condensation, bracing yourself against it as the touch of his hands graced the most intimate parts of your body, as if solidifying the promise you’d just made. 

The plane began its slow descent, the city of Seattle spreading out beneath you like an ocean of lights glittering against the early evening skies. Your head rested against the wall of the plane, your eyes watching out the window as the details of the skyline came into view. But you couldn’t focus on the landmarks in view, not when your thoughts were racing - drifting excitingly to Vince. It was later in the season than you had originally planned to visit him. But early in the season, Vince had been injured. He needed the time to heal, and he wanted you to see him play when you visited.  It led to greater time apart, but it didn’t feel as distant as the miles between you. Not when he was so eager to text, to call, and when date night could still happen on a video call. The two of you had spent countless late nights together, and each one made you more excited to see him.

You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding and filled as your mind was clouded - stupid with the kind of love that made everything else seem insignificant. Your flight had been delayed, and you had spent hours seated beside a baby who wailed most of the flight. But you didn’t complain. Not once, because when it was all over, you’d get to see Vince. You let out a dreamy sigh. Love. You really did love him. You could feel it in how your heart skipped in just the thought of him. Sure, maybe it was too soon. The two of you had only been together three months, but you felt it. And you were sure Vince felt it too. Why else would he have introduced you to his family, and fly you all the way out to Seattle to spend the weekend with him? It felt like it was all building up to something bigger—for him to say the words. This weekend, Vince would tell you he loved you, you were sure of it.

The plane landed smoothly, and after gathering your carry-on, you made your way through the airport to the baggage carousel. You watched as each bag went around and around, the familiar buzz of the bustle that consumed airports all around you as you waited for your small bag to catch your eye. And when you found it, you were off like a shot, your focus on one thing: Finding Vince. 

You found him standing just outside the doors for the pickup of arrivals. He was leaning up against the passenger door of his car, his black coat unbuttoned although the wind was cold and greeted you with the harsh reality that while winter on the coast was different, it was still cold. You regretted leaving your coat shoved in your bag, but you wasted no time in pulling it out to put it on. Instead, you ran to him, your smile growing with his as his eyes locked on you.  

His arms and warmth wrapped around you, your bag dropping to the ground as your arms wrapped around him in return. Your fingers clung to him for the first time in months, his strength lifting you off the ground as he pulled you into a tight embrace. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, and the soft kiss of his lips as he placed a simple kiss there before he returned you to your feet. Then, his hands slid down the angles of your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I’ve missed you,” he spoke gently, sending a shy smile over your lips as he helped you into the passenger seat. You welcomed the warmth of the car as you tucked your carry on between your feet, finally opening it to pull out your coat as Vince put your bag in the back seat. You watched him in the mirrors as he rounded the car and met his smile as he sat beside you in the driver's seat. 

“We’ve got the entire weekend,” Vince said, his smile easy. “I’ve got plans for us- dinner tonight, then tomorrow you’ll come to one of my games, and Monday morning, I’ll drop you off at the airport.”

“That sounds great,” you nodded, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you. It felt just as it had at the end of summer—there was a level of comfort you had with Vince that you couldn’t quite explain. One that simply being around him put you at ease, and left you excited for the weekend to come. It felt perfect, like a dream. 

The ride from the airport to his apartment was quick, but with the delay you faced with your flight you were already running behind for your dinner reservation. 

“The bathroom’s just there if you want to freshen up. I’ll call the guys and tell them we’re going to be a little late,” Vince told you gently, and you perked up? The guys? He was taking you to meet his friends — his teammates? 

“I’ll just need a minute to change,” you assured, dragging your suitcase into the bathroom with you before you shut the door. 

You looked over it with wide eyes and suddenly panicked. If you were going to be meeting his friends, you wanted to make a good impression. Dropping to your knees, you sorted through the clothes you had brought. At one time, while you were packing, you told yourself you had packed too much. That you wouldn’t have needed so much for two days, but now, as there were so many unknowns, you were relieved that you had let yourself over prepare. You traded your comfortable pants for a nice skirt and pair of tights, and your hooded sweatshirt for a turtleneck sweater and a dainty necklace. A pair of black boots replaced what you always wore to travel. And then all you had to worry about was hair and makeup. If you had more time, you would have styled it. But all you could really afford to do was touch up your lipstick, your mascara and tame any flyaway strands. Then, if you felt ready or not, it was time to leave. 

Hand in hand, you walked with Vince down the sidewalks of Seattle. The restaurant was nearby, leaving you to enjoy the crisp autumn air that mingled with the smell of rain that had fallen and the scent of fallen leaves as they weighed down wet and heavy on the sidewalk. The wet pavement reflected the amber glow of the streetlights that flirted with the red, yellow and greens of the stoplights in your path. You admired every detail of the city Vince called his second home, small talk that didn’t really feel like small talk slipping from your lips. After months apart, there was so much for you to share, to catch up on, but the moment you walked through the restaurant doors and Vince’s hand fell from yours, the air became heavy, silent. 

“Reservation under Dunn,” he spoke to the hostess, who greeted him with a soft smile and eyes that were only for him. You watched her for a moment, her everything the very opposite of you. It made your stomach sink as his smile matched hers, so easily — so effortlessly it seemed like more than just being nice. 

Slowly, you slipped off your coat and hung it over your arms and hugged it to your chest. It was like a blanket of armor as you followed Vince through the restaurant like his shadow. You kept your head down, watching his heels, and scared to look up as the clamour of your table grew loud. It was only a small group of his friends, none of whose faces you recognised, but it sounded like an entire team. Four men, all comfortable in their seats with no girlfriends, only empty bottles to keep them company. 

One hand slipped out from beneath your coat, reaching out to Vince for even a semblance of comfort, but he was already out of reach taking his seat at the table.

“Sorry, we're late,” Vince said casually. “Someone had to change.”

You had the sudden urge to vomit, the embarrassment all consuming as you draped your jacket over the last empty chair at the table. It was at the very corner of the table at one end. Vince sat to your right, and there was an empty walkway to your left. 

He introduced you by name, before nodding around the table to each of his friends. Tye, Brandon, Ryan and Shane. Some of them offered subtle nods, others a simple hello as you seated yourself at the table and suddenly you felt out of place. As Vince fell into conversation with his friends, you felt like nothing more than a decoration as you glanced over the menu. Around you, the laughter felt distant, and the conversation felt impossible to contribute to. Your shoulders felt heavy with the feeling that you didn’t quite fit in, and it had you desperate or any kind of comfort. 

You reached for Vince’s hand under the table, seeking his touch and reassurance. It brushed over the top of his thigh before flipping, laying your palm open for his hand to take. His hand dropped from the table, but instead of taking yours, he gently took you by the wrist and placed your hand back in your lap. And he left it there, untouched. 

Your front teeth bit down on your lip to keep your mouth from falling open. His actions sent your heart sinking so deeply into your chest that you felt empty. Dread was all-consuming, and your embarrassment was so heavy that you thought about grabbing your coat and walking towards the door. Instead, you reached out for the glass of red wine in front of you. You took a long sip and tried to swallow that knot that formed in your throat down with it as you fought back the tears that threatened to spill.

When the server brought you your plate, you didn’t touch it, and once your first glass of wine was empty, you didn’t indulge yourself in another. The laughter, the conversations, even the clinking of silverware continued all around you, but you didn’t do more than breathe and stare at the empty glass that had nothing more than a single drop of wine resting at the very bottom. It was mere background noise as you retreated into your thoughts, heavy and spiraling.

Your silence followed you from the table and hung heavily over you and Vince on the walk back to his place. The autumn rain had left the streets glistening, and there was a chill in the air that left your skin prickled with goosebumps. As the temperature dropped, rain became glistening snow, and Vince’s hand reached out to yours as the two of you walked alone in the streets, but you didn’t take it. Not after he had made you feel the way he had, and your mind was spinning with questions you weren’t sure how to ask. 

But the moment you arrived back at Vince’s place. His words cut through the silence. 

“Why are you so pissed off?” Vince almost sounded offended, and if you weren’t so angry, you might have laughed at him. 

You kicked off your shoes at the door, leaving them toppled over, before you walked away from him and to the kitchen with your left overs that your stomach was aching for. Your shoulders shrugged as you opened the fridge and tucked them away. When you closed it, Vince was leaning up against the cupboard just on the other side, waiting for answers. 

“I’m not pissed off. Who said I was pissed off?” You answered him with a question of your own, your words firm and heavy with the hurt that still hung over you. 

“Cause you’re acting pissed off,” Vince huffed, his hand reaching up to push through his curls, “Is it because of my friends? Because they were super fucking nice to you-”

“I liked your friends. I never said I didn’t like your friends,” you set him straight quickly. “I didn’t like the way you acted around them.”

“What do you mean?” His face softened, perplexed. 

You laughed out a short and hollow ha as you circled in the kitchen. You couldn’t stand still. 

“You didn’t even look at me once!” Your voice raised, though you were trying your best not to yell. 

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed. 

“You didn’t say one to thing the entire night-”

“That’s such bullshit, and you know it,” he punctuated his words with your name, and it only made them sting more. 

“And you dropped my fucking hand! What am I supposed to do with that?” Your voice strained as you grew closer and closer to tears. 

“I didn’t even fucking notice–What are you talking about?” Vince’s brow furrowed. “I was catching up with my friends! What are you trying to make this entire night about you?”

It was at that moment you wanted to scream, because the night was supposed to be about you. He was the one who flew you out to Seattle just to see you. To show you the city and introduce him to his friends, his team, his life! And suddenly, this trip wasn’t all about you. 

“You’re being so fucking selfish.” His words stung like a slap. 

You stilled for the first time since coming in the door, and your head cocked to the side as you looked at Vince with narrowed eyes. “Oh, I’m selfish?”

“Right now, that’s exactly what’s happening!”

Your face went blank, wearing a doe eyes stare as you were suddenly void of any anger as you looked at him. You held only disbelief—had he just yelled at you? 

Just as quickly as his tone shocked you, Vince’s voice softened. “Don’t look at me like that…” his words were a gentle plea as he came up beside you, his arms slipping around your waist to pull you into him. 

You stood with your back against his chest, your arms hugging over his as he kissed the back of your neck softly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “about dinner… About everything. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

His words were soothing, easing you into a forgiveness that you shouldn’t have wanted to give him. But you hadn’t wanted to fight, you had simply just wanted Vince to hear you and he had. He was sorry. 

You let Vince turn you around in place slowly, his soft playful smile on his face and bringing one to your own. “I’m sorry,” you muttered into his shoulder as you let yourself cling to him, but Vince only let you hug him for so long. Too soon he was pulling back, but his touch didn’t leave you. Instead, he turned you around in place, and swayed with you to the hum of the refrigerator like it was music. 

His sudden playfulness coaxed an easy laugh from your lips as you stumbled over your own feet. He caught you with ease and led you into a dance that eased the tension that had built up during the night. It lifted the heaviness that weighed down on your chest and your shoulders, and in that moment you were back to feeling like yourself in his embrace. 

This was the Vince you travelled all the way to Seattle for. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, your voice soft but teasing as you looked up at him. 

Vince grinned, twirling you slowly one last time before his hands settled on your waist. He pulled you in close, the warmth of his body enveloping you in its embrace and the world beyond his door, cold and distant. It was just the two of you, and for now, that was enough. 

With a simple glance down at your lips, Vince drew you in. It wasn’t his touch, or his words, but his mere gaze drew your lips to his in a kiss you had been craving since your flight had landed. At first the kiss was soft and gentle, like his apology. But it quickly became laced with hunger, with the caress of his tongue against your lips, and you could not deny him—because denying him would also be denying yourself. 

Vince picked you up with ease, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of the back of thighs as he moved blindly through his apartment. You didn’t know where he was taking you until you were laying flat against his mattress with his body climbing on top of you. Your legs parted, making room for his body against yours as he knelt there, stripping his plaid shirt from his body to begin the pile of clothes on the floor. Then he’s hovering over you, kissing your lips, and down. Down over the angle of your jaw earning a desperate pant from your lips. 

His every kiss against your skin was like striking a match, and the breath that followed the oxygen to keep the fire burning. As he kissed lower, he peeled each article of clothing you wore from your body and let it join his plaid shirt on the floor. You were naked before you could even think to pull his loose white t-shirt from his shoulders. Your eyes flickered away from his face, admiring his body as he revealed it to you. Still strong, still toned, just a little more bruised and a little less rested than the last time he had you. You stroked over his chest with a featherlight touch of your fingers and you watched his face melt in relaxation. It eased Vince back from you, his hand falling to his belt. 

The leather whipped from the restraints of Vince’s belt loops with a flicker of a sound, and with the simple motions of his thumb, his pants were slipping down his hips. You reached to where they rested with eager hands, gripping at the leather and pushed them down the strength of his thighs. The denim pooled there until he picked it free, his own eager hands pushing down his briefs next before he was between your thighs. 

“Vince,” you breathed out his name, your heart racing against your chest as it heaved a desperate breath. 

He echoed his name with your own, a single hand reaching up to push your hair from your face with the gentle caress of his hand. You nuzzled into it, as you felt the weight of his body so fully against your own. Then, your lips parted in a soft moan and left his skin marked with your favorite shade of red lipstick as he made you his own.

You had imagined the moment many times in your head. 

Entering Climate Pledge Arena, as much more than a fan. You had pictured it differently each time. Sometimes you had a special jacket, custom made and embellished with the glimmer of gems or embroidery. Other times, you wore a Kraken jersey with DUNN sprawled across your back. But in every scenario, all knew who you were there to watch your boyfriend Vince Dunn—though the two of you had yet to use the label. And you’d finally get to meet the other wives and girlfriends of Vince’s teammates. The warm and fuzzy feeling of being welcomed into the tight-knit circle of wives and girlfriends was something you daydreamed about. You hoped for instant connections, for friendships that felt like sisterhood—but harsh realities quickly betrayed your imagination. 

You didn’t wear a fancy new jacket. 

There was no jersey for you to wear. 

And while the arena was buzzing with excitement, the energy of the crowd was not enough to ease the anxiety that bubbled inside you as you reached your seat. Your seat was in the middle of the crowd, with no one expecting you or welcoming you among them, and it left your mouth tasting sour. You were just another fan in the stands. 

Forcing a smile, you sat among them, your hands gripping the edge of your seat with a knuckle-white grasp. You watched as the teams took the ice, your eyes naturally drawn to Vince in his uniform. He skated with the same ease and confidence that had drawn you in that first night the two of you had met. He looked so focused, so in his element, and for a moment you forgot about the uneasiness deep in your stomach and felt proud. Proud to be there, supporting him, proud of who he was. 

But not even the pride could keep the doubt from seeping in as you sat there alone in the crowd of strangers. You glanced around the seats in your section, your ice shifting from the left, to the right and to the left again as your breathing swallowed. All around you, you noticed clusters of women scattered throughout the stands. They were laughing, chatting with each other as they sipped their beer and wine. It was almost enough to make you smile until you saw DUNN written across one of their backs and the look on her face. She was looking at him like her seat wasn’t high above the ice. Like he could see the batting of her thick lashes and the coy smile on her lips as she ogled him. And she looked at him like that because nobody knew about you - because she thought that she might have a shot. 

Sinking into your seat, you felt small, alone. 

The feeling hung over you as the game unfolded in front of you, but the excitement you should have felt didn’t reach you. You focused on Vince, watching how effortlessly he moved on the ice. You clapped when he made a good play, and cheered when the Kraken scored, but the joy felt hollow. By the time the final buzzer rang, and the Kraken celebrated their victory down at ice level; you were unmoving in your seat, unsure how to feel. 

The eruption of cheers and applause, the post game high, was lost on you as you stood in the crowd of thousands in a daze. You moved with the crowd as the arena emptied, your hand grasping your phone tight in your hand, waiting for a message from Vince to come. It took thirty minutes of waiting outside the front of the arena for a message to bring your phone to life. You were cold, one hand on your phone while the other clutched your coat tight around your neck to keep yourself from catching a chill. He told you where to meet him, and as you walked along the sidewalk, you had to keep telling yourself this was just one game. But the hollow feeling lingered until Vince pulled up in front of you in his car and got out with such an expression you would have thought he lost you. 

“There you are,” he muttered as he got out of the car and wrapped his arms around you. And you fell into him. Your face buried into the strength of his chest and your arms wrapped around him—desperately, pathetically — trying to grasp onto the only thing that made you feel you belonged. 

Back home in Toronto, things felt different. With each passing day, you were hearing from Vince less and less. You didn’t wake up each day with a sweet good morning message, and he was no longer the last person you spoke to before you went to bed at night. That was,  if you heard from him at all. You tried to tell yourself that it was normal. That he was busy with hockey. His career had a demanding schedule, one that went beyond playing a game almost every other night. You understood that. So it was easy to listen to the excuses he made when he would finally text or call, his stories making you so sympathetic to why it was so hard for him to find the time to connect. 

Each time you spoke, it filled you with the same fluttering feelings you had back in the beginnings of autumn. It was a warm feeling that blossomed through you on the coldest of winter days—one of hope of the days to come and fueled by the simple promise he made you: He would call you on your birthday. 

Vince had told you he wished he could have been there in person, but his schedule didn’t allow it. You were forced to celebrate it apart, divided by both land and time, but the promise of his call left you floating high on excitement. You clung to the promise all day, watching your phone for any sign of him as you ran your early morning errands and got ready in the afternoon. But as the hours slipped by, the silence from him grew louder. 

The sound track of your night was supposed to start with the pop of a bottle of champagne and followed the clamor of cutlery against plates as you and your family friends enjoyed a meal together at your favorite restaurant. Their laughter surrounded you, and yet, like the rest of the noise, it felt distant. Like a mere echo in the back of your mind that felt empty, free of thought, save for the one fact that left you heavy in your chair at the head of the table. 

Vince still hadn’t called. 

You had to focus on your breathing, forcing a steady breath when you wanted to do nothing more than sob, as you reached for your phone that rested face down on the table. The brightness was low, the subtle glow casting across your face as you checked your phone, hoping for a message, a missed call—anything. 

But you found nothing. 

Your father, seated beside you, caught your eye. He smiled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes—he must have known something was wrong. He could see it in the way your mood shifted every time you looked down at your phone and found that Vince hadn’t even attempted to get hold of you. 

He reached out, his warm hand resting over yours as it rested over your phone. You tried to force a smile, but as you met his gaze, it wavered. His hand squeezed yours gently, trying to offer the smallest comforts to the problem you had yet to tell him - and you didn’t want to tell him. Not when Vince had made such a good first impression when the two of them had met at the wedding months before. The conversation had been natural, and your father had laughed at every single one of his self-effacing jokes. But no one was laughing now. 

On the verge of tears you pushed up from the table and let your hand slip away from the gentle hold of your fathers with every intent of running off to the bathroom to cry. But he followed in your wake, his strides on pace with yours as he followed you to the narrow hallway that divided the washrooms from the dining room. There you turned, falling back into his arms as your tears fell. You clutched to him, your fingers straining against his back as you sobbed. And he held you, one hand on your back, and the other on the back of your head, holding it carefully as you sobbed into his chest. 

“He promised.” Your voice was strained, and you were sure you could hear his heart fall in his chest. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” your father’s words were soft as he murmured just low enough for you to hear, “I should’ve seen it. Should’ve known.”

You frowned, your eyes blinking back heavy tears as you tilted your head back to look up at your father. “What are you talking about?”

His head shook slowly, solemnly, his grip on you loosening slightly so he could look down at you. “I should have known that boy was no good for you. Only a fool would make you feel like this on your birthday.” His words were soft, but were heavy with regret. 

Your throat tightened as you looked away. You hated how he was blaming himself. He didn’t know Vince like you did - or rather, like you thought you did. He didn’t see the way things had been in the beginning - how Vince made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered. Your father didn’t hear the promises that he made or the love you had felt. But what he did see were the broken promises and the heavy sorrow and how it consumed you. 

But as you stood there in your father’s arms, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was right. 

Your body shook with a quake of another sob, your father’s arms constricting around you again as he whispered, “It’s supposed to be fun, turning twenty-one.”

At the end of the night, when your parents had gone home and your friends took your party to a bar, you found your refuge at home. Your apartment was quiet, too quiet, as you closed the door behind you and let the entirety of your weight fall back against it. It was dark. The only light filtering in was from a streetlight outside your living room window. It was almost comforting just to stand there, but being back home alone only gave way for the anxiety to grow. It nagged at you in the back of your mind and consumed you so fully it felt like a snake constricted around your chest.

Your dress felt too tight around your ribs, almost suffocating. In need of any relief, you reached back to pull at the zipper, your fingers slipping along the zipper and the fabric as you struggled. The more you tugged, the more the frustration built. You stumbled on your feet in the doorway, your teeth gritting as you fought back another wave of tears, until finally your heels caught the edge of the rug. With a cry, you dropped to your knees, feeling the cold floor sting as the force rubbed your skin raw. Your vision blurred with tears, your hands clutching at the dress, desperately trying to remove it from your body with such force the zipper broke. It seemed to peel away from your skin, and you pushed it off, panting, leaving yourself to sit naked on the floor consumed by your tears. 

You choked back a sob, but it slipped out anyway, filling the silence and drawing the attention of your cat that had been sleeping in your reading chair nearby. The cat perked up with a pur and jumped down to the floor with a soft thud. The little patter of the cat’s feet almost made you smile, and feeling the cat’s soft fur against your leg helped you try to focus on literally anything but your anxiety. 

But it could rid you of the loneliness and betrayal you felt deep in your chest. And you were practically reeling at the memories that flooded you. Your mind was an echo chamber of Vince, his perfect smile and his laugh that had always flooded you with a happiness you couldn’t quite explain. It was like being haunted by a ghost of him, one that was born in the death of the man you knew and the birth of the man he really was. 

It wasn’t supposed to end like this, not on your birthday, not in this way. Not when you thought that maybe you and Vince would be forever. 

Your lip quivered as your eyes fell on your purse. It was a small clutch, just large enough for your phone, debit card and a lipstick inside. You reached for it, snatching it up with trembling fingers before you worked on the fastener. It clicked open, your phone screen dark as it rested inside. Slowly, you slipped it out onto one hard and for a second you just stared at it, your thumb hovering over the lifeless screen. Then, with a single press of your thumb, the screen came to life. No notifications greeted you. No messages from Vince. So, you sent him some of your own. 

You stared at the sent messages, your eyes burning with tears that you wiped away with the back of your hand before they could leave trails down your cheeks. A sob slipped out of swollen lips, harsh and aching, as you forced yourself to your feet and finally kicked off your heels. You walked to the bathroom down the hall, and without turning the lights on, prepared to go to sleep. You scrubbed at your face, wiping away what remained of your smeared makeup, each brush of your face cloth harsh like you were trying to erase the entire night from your skin. Then, you brushed your teeth, the mint-flavored toothpaste almost making you gag as you stood bent over the sink. 

Finally, you crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin, feeling the hollow ache in the depth of your chest. You pressed a hand there, as if it could somehow ease the weight of the day from your heart. The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing as you tried to force yourself to sleep. But sleep didn’t come, only the tears did. They trickled down your cheeks until you choked on them, feeling the hollow emptiness in the very depths of your being. 

Then, in the dead of the night, your phone rang. If you had been asleep, you wouldn’t have heard it at all, beckoning to you from where you had left it on the living room floor. Yet, you didn’t move. You didn’t even open your eyes. You didn’t need to look at the screen to know it was him. Vince. His name pulsed in your mind as if it had its own heartbeat. A pulse that flooded an open wound and did nothing but bleed. 

Suddenly, the ringing stopped, leaving a silence that settled like dust. A silence so pure you didn’t even breathe. The desperation for air burned in your chest, and only did you give yourself the relief when you heard the phone ring again. Again and again, like torture. You wanted to scream the very sound, leaving your chest so tight you thought you might have a heart attack - yet you lay there, unmoving. 

You had been waiting all night for him to call, but now you only wanted silence. And when it came, when it stayed, exhaustion claimed you, lulling you into sleep and leaving the ache to linger as nothing but a thought as the peace of darkness consumed you. 

Healing would come with time, was what you kept telling yourself every time you forced yourself to do anything. You had struggled to do even the littlest things at first. Brush your teeth. Make yourself a meal and eat it. Shower. Each small task had been one you struggled through with heavy exhaustion - and ask you branched back out into the world, a fake smile. But as each day passed, living became just a little easier. Your smile, a little more genuine, even if you still found yourself struggling to feel anything but sorrow below the surface. 

The ache that would creep into the depth of your chest, or the nagging thoughts that snuck into the back of your mind, were forgotten when you were with friends. So you surrounded yourself with them whenever you could manage. Once, twice, sometimes three times a week, you found yourself in a crowded bar with your friends. Their voices and laughter swirled around you as you indulged in conversation and a bottle of wine. It was meant to be what it always was; a night to unwind. Somewhere you could go and leave everything else behind for a few hours. But when your phone buzzed on the table, and you couldn’t ignore its insistent, repetitive droning that called to you through the chaos of the bustling bar around you, you looked down and there it was. Vince’s name was on the screen. 

It had been a month since the night he left you waiting, hoping for him to reach out with a birthday wish. A month of silence had followed since the message you had sent, ending whatever it was the two of you had shared. 

Part of you wanted to ignore him, to let the phone ring and ring until he understood what it felt like to wait on someone who never showed. To be ignored by someone who never seemed to care. But you couldn’t deny that a part of you wanted closure. 

Excusing yourself from the table, ignoring the looks your friends shot at you, you moved towards the bar’s restrooms. Leaning against the wall just outside, you crossed a single arm tightly across your chest and brought the other up to your ear as you accepted the call from Vince. You stood there, listening to the silence that hung on the line for a moment, stealing seconds from the conversation you were already wishing you hadn’t agreed to. 

“Hello?” you whispered in fear that your voice would break if you had tried to be firm with him. 

There was a pause. Then Vince spoke, “you picked up.”

You could almost hear the surprise in his voice. He sounded as though he hadn’t expected you to answer at all. And really, you shouldn’t have. 

“What do you want, Vince?” You asked, your voice wavering as you shut your eyes tight. Just hearing his voice reignited all the feelings you had tried to cast aside. He made your heart race with all the same excitement as he had before, a high you would forever chase just for even a sliver of the feelings he had once given you. And maybe if it were another time, or another place, you would have let yourself fall back into him. To let his lies and betrayals fool you again. But you couldn’t, not while the wounds were still fresh. 

“I miss you,” he said. His words were soft, almost pleading. And you almost scoffed as you gripped your ribcage just a little tighter. “I know I messed up,” he continued, “but I swear, I’m gonna change. Trust me.”

You let out a slow breath, your eyes cast out over the bar, staring back at the booth where all of your friends sat waiting, wondering where you had run off to. You focused on them, in a desperate attempt to ignore how the weight of his words were heavy on old wounds that were almost scars. Cutting them back open like a knife…but he would just leave you bleeding. Again. But you could still feel the weight of his words; Trust me. They echoed through you, but they felt hollow, disingenuous. You wanted to believe them, but you know you couldn’t. Not when they were leaving his lips. 

Silence stretched between you, the kind that begged for a response, and you bit the inside or your cheek, trying to gather the courage to really end things. Your lips parted, a heavy breath near bringing you to a tremble before Vince’s words stole the air right from you. 

“I still love you,” he spoke quickly. 

The words cut through you, sharp and clear and desperate. He had never said those words before. The two of you had never put a label on what you had shared, and yet, the way he threw still in front of them stung. He said it as if you’d had something real, something that was worth keeping. And maybe, once upon a time, when the autumn leaves still hung in beautiful colors of red and gold before they fell into place like puzzle pieces on the ground, you might have called it love too. But now, as you stood there, alone, hiding away from your friends at the bar because you knew talking to him after all he would have put you through would upset them. You felt the truth settle over you. 

Vince didn’t love you, he never did. Not really. Not in the way you had needed because during the short time you were together, he had always left you feeling like there should be more. 

You gripped your phone tightly, letting the realization sink in. Every broken promise, every unanswered call, it brought you to this moment. And as each time Vince had let you down hung heavily over you, you found your voice, “we are never getting back together. Ever.”

The words felt final, grounding, like an anchor you could hold on to. You finally felt like you weren’t stuck in the same cycle of waiting for his text or call, the high of just getting to hear from him, followed by the lows of waiting for the next call. There would be no more uncertainty of never knowing where the two of you stood. What the two of you were. Now, you could walk away from Vince without looking back and wondering what if? Because the reality of it all was that Vince would never change. 

There was a long pause, and on the other end of the call you could only hear his breath as he tried to find the right words for him to say in the space you had left for him. He was trying to think of the right words to reel you back in, to prove to you that things would be different. Until the next time he would miss your call, or break the promise that would leave you crying on the living room floor. But you listening to his empty promises, not this time. 

“Goodbye, Vince.”

You hung up before he could say anything more. 

You slipped your phone back into your pocket and let out a breath that could only be defined by relief. And as you walked back to your friends, something felt different. The weight you had been carrying had finally been lifted and, for the first time in a long time, you felt free of the burdens that came with loving Vince. 

Your favorite downtown coffee show bustled with the sounds of clinking mugs and soft conversations, but you were lost in your own world, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. You sipped your latte, watching the steam rise in lazy spirals, casting a haze between your stare and the phone screen. The feed was the same as it always was, cat videos, the latest fashion trends and posts from your family and friends. Each one left you feeling warm as you were curled up in the seat, away from the harsh, cold Ontario winter that waited just outside for you on the coffee shop doorstep. But the warmth left you, if only for a moment, when a familiar name popped up on your feed. Vince. 

You hadn’t made him much more than a passing thought since the night you ended things with him for good. And while the memory of him lingered, and was consuming on nights you lay alone with nothing more than your anxieties as you craved him, you had tried to rid your life of every bit of him. Yet, you’d forgotten to unfollow him on Instagram. 

You took a long sip, the sweet latte not enough to rid your mouth of the bitterness on your tongue. It had been three months since that night you said your last goodbye. You should have just kept scrolling past and onto the next funny cat video that would fill you with laughter instead of dread—but against your better judgment, you let your curiosities win and you clicked to view his profile.  

Vince had never posted all that often. You had noticed that since the moment you creeped his feed the night you first met him. His pictures were few and far in between. But there it was, something new - pictures from his vacation during the All-Star break. You chewed your lower lip as you scrolled through the carousel of pictures and your stomach clenched. There, in one photo, was Vince, smiling, with his arm slung around another woman. You couldn’t see her face as she looked away from the camera, but you could tell by the exposed skin of her body in nothing but an itty-bitty bikini that she was probably younger, vibrant and beautiful. The sight of them together hit you like a punch in the gut. 

It shouldn’t have, but it did. Because it was you who ended things. Yet, you sat alone in the coffee shop still struggling with the memories of him while he was so quick to move on with someone new. It hurt, but it solidified what you knew all along. He didn’t love you, he never had. 

Your chest tightened as you swiped through more pictures, your heart sinking deeper and deeper with each one. He never took pictures with you, not any he had shared on social media where anyone of his friends and fans could see. He had never made your relationship public beyond that one night in September when you had met his family. You had been his best kept secret that he hid away from the world, while your love for him had been at oath. 

Seeing him with someone else left you feeling hollow. Sitting up straight in your seat, you told yourself that you let him go a long time ago. That the magic the two of you had found on those late summer nights faded and died with fall. That magic had been replaced with doubt and hurt. Hurt that you told yourself had healed, but it felt like a lie as you stared at the pictures of Vince happy with someone else.

“You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself in a stuttering breath. But you weren’t fine. Not at all. 

Tears blurred your vision, and before you could stop it, a tear burned its way down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, but it was too late to stop the ache from rising in your throat. The beginning of a sob rested at the back of your throat as you grabbed your bag and coat, and abandoned your half-empty cup of latte on the table. You disappeared into the bathroom, arching over the sink only to see the streaks of mascara down each of your cheeks.

In the reflection of the mirror, you dabbed at your tear-streaked face with a cheap tissue. It stuck to your skin, forcing you to pick little white tufts of cotton from your cheek as the door swung open. You jumped slightly, startled as you tried to turn away from the door so whoever it was wouldn’t see the distress in your eyes—but as your eyes flicked up to the mirror, the sight of someone familiar met you. Your friend, your best friend, the one who had introduced you to Vince. The two of you had drifted apart when you were spending so much time with him, and later, when the weight of losing him had made you withdraw from everyone. You had tried to reconnect with so many of your other friends since then, but you couldn’t with her. Not when she was still so closely connected with Vince. 

Her face lit up when she saw you, and before you could fully find your composure, she was wrapping you in a warm hug. “It’s been too long,” she said into your hair as you did your best to choke back every ounce of feeling that wanted to consume you. Slowly, she took a step back to look at you. “I don’t think we’ve seen each other since the wedding! You were so smitten with Vince that I didn’t even get to say goodbye before we left for the honeymoon. What happened between you two, anyway?”

Her words stung like a fresh cut through the wounds you’d tried so hard to heal. You stood there a moment, feeling paralyzed, the tears welling up in your eyes again, but you forced a smile. It was the same practiced smile you had been wearing for months. 

“It just didn’t pan out,” you lied. You would spare her all the sad details. Quickly, you glanced down at your phone as if you were checking the time. “I’m sorry. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Her smile faltered, but she nodded, sensing the awkwardness in the air. “Of course. Let’s catch up soon, though, okay?”

You nodded quickly before slipping past her, leaving the bathroom and uncomfortable conversation behind. You didn’t return to your table. Instead, you went straight out the front door of the coffee shop and were greeted by the cold winter air. You let out a long exhale as the itchiness in the air hit you. Your breath left you in a soft cloud, and snow fluttered gently as it fell in glittering flakes. There was a peace in the cold that left you pulling your coat tighter around you, but it didn’t ease the ache in your hearts as you walked along the narrow snowy city sidewalks alone. And you truly were surrounded by no one. The streets were empty, as strangers sought refuge from a growing storm in the homes, storefronts or restaurants nearby. It truly mirrored just as lonely as you felt inside. 

You kept your head down, and your hand clutched around your bare neck as you walked home. Your steps slipped and stuttered right up to the doorstep of your apartment. It was your only moment of stability as your caretaker had cleared the cement and spread sand out over the street. The icy winds gave you one last embrace as you dug your keys from your purse and let yourself inside. You stomped your feet free of snow in the entryway before walking up multiple flights of stairs. When you reached your floor, you looked up and down the narrow apartment hallway, and to your door at the end. There, a large box rested on the floor. You weren’t expecting a package. You approached it slowly and dropped to your knees in front of it. It wasn’t outside the wrong suite; it was addressed to you. Then you looked at the return address. Seattle. 

You were slow to pick it up, and even considered leaving it in the hallway, but ultimately your curiosity won. You carried it inside, your cat greeting you as you entered by rubbing against your legs, and you placed it down on the kitchen table. Then you reached down and petted your cat casually, but your eyes never once left the package. 

You took off your coat, hanging it on a rack by the door, and you kicked off your boots and left them on a heap on your door mat before you returned to the table. You stepped in a cold puddle you had created; the water seeping into your socks as you pulled at the packing tape. It tore open with a satisfying sound, but it wasn't enough to ease the racing of your heart as the box opened and you faced everything Vince had felt the need to return to you. Carefully you removed each item—Things you had left behind in Vince’s apartment, thinking that one day you’d be back to retrieve them. A tube of red lipstick, one that you quickly learned was his favorite. A pair of socks that you couldn’t find in the rush to pack your bags before heading to the airport for your flight home. CDs that had found a home in his glove compartment during your late summer drives. Each item brought back a memory, pulling you deeper and deeper into the memories of your time together. 

But something was missing. The scarf you had forgotten at his family’s house that first night you were left feeling that what the two of you shared was love. It wasn’t there. 

Everything else was, though. Every little thing that tied you to him, neatly packed away and shipped back to you, like trash to be discarded. What forced you to remember the early days of your love—the days that were filled with laughter, and the nights where he made you his own—they were supposed to be the beginning of something real. They were memories that you once held so fondly in your heart, but they only brought you heartache now. And Vince? Him sending them back to you made you feel like he had never really felt anything at all. 

You stood there, over the box, staring at it. It’s emptiness and how the timeline of your love was spread in the mess over the tabletop—you had it all, all but the one item that symbolized the beginning of it all. And suddenly, it was too much. Your hands trembled as you stepped back from the table. 

You stumbled down the hall and fell into your bed. Curling up, you hugged your knees to your chest, a crumpled piece of paper laying there as your tears flowed freely. You sobbed into your pillow, trying so desperately to let the memories of Vince go. They hurt too much to keep, but a part of you knew they were too precious to let go. You remembered it all, every little detail, and it consumed you, leaving you shattered. You had given him so much, and in the end, you were left with nothing but the memories of a love that would never last. 

It was all too much. It was all too real. And you couldn’t help but wonder: The love you shared, did it maim him too?

Vince pulled open his dresser drawer with one hand while he tugged at his loose shirt collar with the other. He rifled through it carelessly, disturbing every neatly folded tie, looking for just the right one to match his suit on game day. His fingers moved quickly, digging deeper, searching for a color he had only worn once or twice—there, deep beneath the silk, the cashmere and the cotton, his hand brushed against something soft. Something he hadn’t touched in months. 

At the bottom of the drawer, hidden away from anyone who decided they could snoop through his drawers, was the scarf you had left behind at his brother’s house all those months ago. Vince stopped to stare at it first, the bright red scarf so vibrant against the blacks, blues and greens of his eyes. Then he reached out, letting his fingers curl around the familiar fabric as he drew it from the darkness of the drawer out into the light of his bedroom. He stroked it slowly, only looking away from it when there was a clamour in the next room. 

Vince had almost forgotten he had a guest. 

His new fling was getting ready for the game in the bathroom. She was probably making a mess of something, and he could hear her humming softly as she applied her makeup and did her hair. She wouldn’t be sitting with the other wives and girlfriends—just like you, she would sit alone. And she would be but a memory in a week, maybe two weeks, if he was feeling generous. Even with that in mind, he didn’t need her walking in on him now, as he thought of you. 

Vince watched the half-open door of his bedroom as he gripped the scarf in his fist. He could hear her shuffling around, and the sound of her heels clicking against the floor. As she stood there, staring at the scarf, he remembered that night he met you at dinner. How you had worn such a shy smile, but spoke with such confidence. He remembered how your smile would grow as you tried not to laugh at his jokes, and how you would fix the scarf around your neck just right on the days there were still summer, but so close to fall. It had still smelt of you the day his sister-in-law had returned it to him during the break for the holidays. 

He lifted it up to his face slowly, inhaling deeply. The scent of you had only begun to fade, the traces of you still lingering enough to make his chest tightened with a familiar ache. 

A heavy sighed rocked his shoulders as his grip loosed on the scarf. He had left the fabric wrinkled, but he smoothed them away with a certain care. He held it in both hands, ready to tuck it back where it hid for so long he had forgotten it was there. But as he lowered his hand, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Something made him stop. The scarf. Your scarf. It paired with his game day suit perfectly. A black jacket and pants with a white button down top. It was the pop of color he needed. 

Vince draped it around his shoulders, the wool settling around him like a ghost of your embrace. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he adjusted it just right, the scent of you right under his nose, reminding him of what it smelt like to have his face buried in your soft hair. He smoothed it down carefully before turning away from the mirror and looking out the bedroom door. There, a shadow stretched across the hallway - his fling was lingering, ready to leave and completely unaware of the significance of what he had decided to wear to the game that night. 

Putting on a smile, he stepped out of the room, the scarf resting over his heart—a quiet reminder of the love that had been, and the love he had lost. 

TAGLIST: @mp0625 , @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @kurlyteuvo , @couldawouldashoulda50

[rainbow-rebellion]

I said I wasn’t doing supercorptober this year and then my hand slipped... oops

*content warning: implied abuse*

fly away on the breeze to freedom [ao3 here] (Prompts 1-5: Leaves, Courage, Dress, Garden, Alone)

“There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask “What if I fall?” Oh but my darling, What if you fly?” -- Erin Hanson

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

Thick fog swirls soft and gray along the edge of the yard, long fingers slowly snaking their way through a maze of trunks and branches to settle in a heavy blanket above the multi-colored treetops. A blue ceramic mug gripped tightly between her hands, she savors its warmth in the chill of the early morning. Wisps of steam curl off the hot liquid to dissipate in the crisp autumn air, and the rich aroma of hot chocolate wraps itself around her like a gentle hug, always her comfort drink of choice on a dreary day.

She thinks about the dress hanging in her closet, silken white, skirt layered with tulle to make it full and fluffy, bodice overlaid with intricate lace and beadwork.

She thinks about the suit in the closet opposite hers, a classic black tux with a silver vest and shiny black shoes. She thinks about the man who will be wearing it.

She almost didn’t buy the dress. It had been a rare moment of bravery that had risen from within her, but then had dissipated as quickly as the steam from her cocoa.

Her sister had pleaded with her, tried to convince her she’d be safe, that all of Kara’s family and friends would be there to protect her if she could just find the courage to walk away. But she was too scared of the consequences, too scared of ending up alone. It was something her fiancé liked to remind her of, how sad and inconsequential her life would be without him. For some reason she always believed him.

That was before though, before a dear friendship blossomed into something that promised the possibility of more. Before kind words and patient company began to heal her shattered sense of self and slowly rebuild the confidence she had lost somewhere along the way. (Not surprisingly it was a friendship he never approved of). She’s still scared of course, she’s always scared these days, but she’s also so very tired of it all, and doesn’t know how much more she can take.

The morning sun peeks through the haze to cast pockets of golden light on the changing leaves - varying shades of orange, red, yellow and green - setting the trees ablaze in a magical show of color and glowing light. The sun’s rays catch a lone leaf as it falls, floating on the breeze to land softly on the dewy grass below. She wonders if it could be that easy - if she lets go, will she land as gently? She thinks about how the trees shed their old leaves and bare their branches to the winter’s fury, comforted by the assurance of warm spring days and new life ahead of them.

A determination settles in her soul, solid and resolute. She thinks about her sister and her mother, their pleas and their promises. Maybe it’s time to finally trust them. She thinks about someone else, piercing green eyes looking deep into her own and asking Kara to think about what she wants - not what anyone else wanted or what she thinks she’s supposed to want, but what she actually wants. A whispered oath swearing to always be there for her, no matter the answer.

But she thinks she knows the answer now - she’s known it for a while if she’s being honest with herself. It’s just now she’s finally finding the courage to take the leap, knowing there will be somebody to catch her. Someone who will love her the way he never could, with soft words and gentle hands.

A cold breeze has her pulling her cardigan tighter around her body, but she can’t help the quiet smile that appears on her weary face.

When she goes back inside she stands in the living room and looks around a house that has never felt like a home. A place that should have been a safe haven, but often felt more like a prison than anything else. Four walls and a roof that she’ll be happy to be free from.

Mike is still asleep on their bed, face down, snoring in his deep baritone. With the alcohol still in his system from last night, he’ll be out until at least noon. She gathers a few of her belongings in a small bag, only the really important things that can’t be replaced. She leaves her ring on the kitchen table with a short note, even though he doesn’t deserve her explanation. He’ll be angry no matter what, but she’s done letting him intimidate her.

She drives on autopilot to the other side of the city, to a quaint little white house with a blue door, her heart knowing exactly where it needs to be right now. She doesn’t bother with the doorbell, instead she walks around to let herself in the wooden gate to the garden in the back. That's where Kara knows she’ll find her, kneeling on the ground with her hands in the soil. Lena had bought this house in a quiet suburb after semi-retiring from her high-stress corporate career, and had taken prolifically to gardening. The multitude of flowers and abundant greenery evidence of her green thumb, all thriving, vibrant and full of life just like Lena.

She looks up when Kara enters the garden, the warm dappled light accentuating the hint of auburn in her dark brown hair, and falling across her face in a way that highlights the slight difference of color in her eyes, one a jade green, the other a hint more blue. Her gaze is soft and welcoming, but curious, tilting her head in question at the bag slung over Kara’s shoulder.

“I thought about what you asked me.”

Lena simply nods and waits patiently, though she can’t help the way her heart involuntarily skips a beat and her stomach flutters in anticipation.

“I know what I want now.” Kara takes a deep breath in, letting the tension drop out of her body when she exhales. Then a little more quietly, but steady and full of certainty, “I know who I want.”

Lena doesn’t say anything right away, but the smile on her face and the sparkle in her eyes says everything. She pats the ground next to her with a gloved hand. “Come sit with me.”

So Kara drops her bag on the small stone patio and sits down in the dirt next to her. Lena slips an arm around her and pulls her close, so Kara’s head is resting on her shoulder. She nuzzles her nose in golden blonde hair and places a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. Humming in contentment, Kara relishes the warmth of Lena’s body and breathes in her calming scent, allowing herself to finally relax and to be loved in this tender way.

Lena eventually pulls away to gaze at her, eyes full of adoration, achingly gentle but also fiercely protective, promising a hundred tomorrows each better than the next, and never one of them alone. She reaches out to grab a small plastic pot filled with orange and yellow flowers, and holds it up so Kara can see them.

“Did you know that chrysanthemums symbolize rebirth and new beginnings? They're actually revered in many cultures as a reminder of the beauty of change and transformation.” She pauses, dimples forming in her cheeks as her smile grows. Reaching out with her free hand she takes Kara’s in hers and squeezes. “Would you like to plant them with me?”

Kara can’t help but feel as light as the leaf she saw that morning, as if she herself had been carried here by the breeze, landing soft and sure, exactly where she needed to be. For the first time in a long time, when she smiles, it reaches all the way to her eyes and makes them crinkle at the corners.

“I’d like that very much.”

And as she sits side by side with Lena, working together in a little garden grown from love and filled with life, she feels the warmth of the sun break through and lift the fog from her soul.

[southernsolarpunk]

so since I've basically seen all the seasons at my house now I've got a decent understanding of the micro-climate of my yard, and i need to document it somewhere so here goes:

front yard gets scorched. straight up. it doesn't really let up until 2-3 pm so i need full sun drought tolerant plants in the front area. (i dug some swales to redirect runoff from the foundation of the house, so its a little more moist than it was when we first moved in) this can be slightly mitigated by planting a couple dwarf trees in the very front area of the yard but that'll only help a little. i got a hardy hibiscus 'dark mystery' (Hibiscus Moscheutos, native perennial) that i plant to take cuttings of next year that has been loving the heat. This area i also plan to plant a bunch of milkweed (current varieties I'm planning to get are sandhill milkweed [asclepias Humistrata] green milkweed [Asclepias Viridis] Purple milkweed [Asclepias Purpurascens]) I'm also planning to get some native ornamental grasses to place around the entire property (including the front yard) some other plants i planning to plant are cardinal flower (Lobelia Cardinalis), liatris (liatris Spicata), Gaillardia (Gaillardia Pulchella), prairie sage (artemisia Ludoviciana), mountain mint (pycnanthemum muticum). more to be decided after i put this wave in. (definitely want some bee balm)

right side of the yard (by the house) is dark, cool, wooded, and wet. the rhododendron i put in was doing great until my brother in law took a lawnmower to it. :( but at least i can replace it. this is also where i have my feijoas (he also ran over them but they bounced back). probably will just add some rhododendrons & hydrangeas. i need to look up some more native shade plants for this area.

left side of the yard (by the house) gets even more sun than the front yard. i want to get a green house eventually (i have to replace all the windows in my house so I'll repurpose those for it) so this is probably the best place to do it.

backyard is large, part is dry and sunny, and towards the back is wooded. this is where i plan to put the fruit & nut trees i want. i need to thin out some of the less mature trees because they're extremely dense at the moment. (got a battery-powered chainsaw. i would have just borrowed my stepdads tools but hes convinced i would break them if i used them. :/ but at least now my father-in-law can borrow mine if he needs it) in the center of the backyard is where i have 2 12x4 gardens beds, and in the future i plan to add 2 more. this is where i have a lot of passionflower maypop plants, i transplanted some to the fenceline but i want an archway trellis as well. (i have watched probably over a hundred gulf fritillary caterpillars turn into butterflies, they're everywhere) the right side of the yard is where i plan to put the taller fruit & nut trees, (wont block sunlight) but i also want to get some dwarf fruit trees to place around as well. also this summer i saw lightning bugs in the backyard (!!!!!!!) so i plan to put in some grasses around an area that's like 12x12 ft across that dips down a few feet. (this area literally looks like a dried up small pond) i looked up how to use clay to create a natural lining for a pond, so this area will be good for lightning bugs, frogs, toads, salamanders, etc. this is in the lowest part of the yard, so its an optimal place for it.

this is just some basic plans for the future- i got a lot of seeds online so its not too break-the-bank expensive, and i get a lot of bushes and trees from etsy which can be great for saving money, despite the slight increased risk for mislabeled plants. i save money with this so i can get some nicer varieties of fruit trees that i really want (fuji apples, hosui pears, bing & rainier cherry trees).

my father-in-law really enjoys canning and preserving so I'm growing all the trees so i can give him some fruit to preserve (he lives in a very low-laying area, and a lot of it is swamp so he doesn't have as much room for fruit trees, his blackberry jam is amazing) also a guy my partner works with is into gardening as well (dudes he gave us so many peppers literally pounds of them) so i want to be able to return the favor with fruit. :) my mom and stepdad also have some fruit trees but I'm hoping to grow some that they don't have so we can trade.

ultimately i just want to grow as much food as possible and give it away to everyone who wants it, while also hosting the ultimate butterfly rest stop.

if you read this and enjoyed it, I'm glad! I'll post about these projects as i do them (which will be slowly) so i hope maybe this will inspire some of you :)

[riversimmone]

In the Heat of the Moment

In The Heat of The Moment

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

AU. This is what happens when the SasuSaku in my head is interrupted by Naruto and this alternate universe version of Team 7 get down and dirty on a hot day. Rated M for a reason. It is NOT REMOTELY YAOI OR YURI. It also has a SasuSaku moment...

Notes:

Cross-posting: I wrote this in 2011 so please forgive the weirdness and naivety of it. I don't think this needs the 'multi' category but if you disagree please let me know. Original fanfiction.net author note: AU one-shot. Okay, so for reference, it says on my profile that lately every time I try to write SasuSaku, Naruto pops into my head, looking for a threesome. Well, this is the result. Don't get confused, I'm not into reading or writing SasuNaru, nor writing NaruSaku, (the storyline has to be good enough for a NaruSaku for me to consider reading it), and this is NOT EVEN REMOTELY YAOI. Also: apologies for any and all OOCness. It is AU after all. This has come out more smut than I intended, but anyway… There's a threesome Sasuke/Sakura/Naruto and a SasuSaku lemon. Read, love, and review! :) Rated M. I hope you all enjoy. :)

Sakura Haruno fanned herself, cursing the sun and the humidity. Why oh why did it have to be so fucking hot? She had just had a cold shower to try to cool down, and was bloody hot again! Not to mention horny! She'd broken up with Sasori a week ago for cheating on her and was currently single. A part of her suddenly wished he would waltz up to her house right now and beg to fuck her one last time. She needed a scratch, so bad.

'Well there's always Sasuke,' she thought, staring over at him across the road; he was mowing his front yard, shirtless.

Sitting on the lounge chair on the front patio of her house, she was shaded, but hot, and very aware of the man hunk across the road.

She bit her bottom lip. 'Yeah right, like he would ever fuck me.'

Sasuke Uchiha was incredibly popular, despite his superiority complex. Hot, gorgeous and right now, very single! Sakura's eyes flickered over his nicely toned body as he worked away. That dark hair, those penetrating eyes, that glistening skin… The sound of a mocking voice drew her attention to the blonde sitting in the shadow of Sasuke's house, on the front patio and barely visible to her around the large tree in the front yard.

"Come on Sasuke!" Naruto Uzumaki cooed. "Put some effort into it!"

He stood and leant over the wooden railing of the patio and Sakura noticed that Sasuke wasn't the only one shirtless. She had to admit, his body was hot; that well toned, but lean body had her feeling as moist as the one that belonged to Sasuke.

'Stop fantasizing!' She snapped at herself. 'He's almost as popular as Sasuke!'

'And just as single,' a second voice in her head pointed out.

Groaning softly, Sakura stood as Sasuke started to berate his best friend, and stalked back into her house. She had only lived in Konoha for six weeks, having dated Sasori for two, and had yet to even speak to the hot, raven haired boy who lived across the road. The day her parents had forced her to move with them into this boring little town, she had been sulking quietly about taking this trip. When they'd arrived, she noticed Sasuke right away, sitting on his front porch and staring at her intently. Then Naruto had driven into the Uchiha driveway, and after a long, inaudible discussion on the patio (not to mention several glances in her direction), the boys had disappeared around the Uchiha house and into the backyard. Apparently, she wasn't worth their time. The oldest Uchiha sibling, Itachi, had come over to say hello, and even helped them move some of the heavier furniture. He was so sweet, so helpful, and soooo hot! But she quickly discovered he already had a girlfriend. Sakura had another cold shower and daydreamed about the air conditioner her parents had been promising for a week now. The holidays were killing her!

She watched television, surfed on the net, and then rang her new friend Ino Yamanaka to see if she was busy, realising too late that she had just interrupted her, mid-coitus.

Having hung up the phone, Sakura groaned. Everyone but her was getting laid. Then she jumped, startled as the cordless phone in her hand suddenly rang. It was her mother, reminding her to water the garden. She always worried about that, and Sakura always needed reminding.

The pinkette rolled her eyes. 'You and your shrubs, mother.'

Her parents were visiting friends for a few days, which at least gave Sakura some freedom for a while. So, she left the house and walked around the side to grab the hose. She was wearing short shorts and a small singlet, showing off her shape. She never tanned easily, just burnt in the sun. In the corner of her eye, she noted that Sasuke and Naruto were still in the Uchiha front yard, now both staring at her. They did this quite often. Naruto leant against the patio railing, while Sasuke stood rigidly in the shadow of the tree – both just watching her. She did not appreciate being turned into a spectacle, especially by two hot guys who didn't have the decency to speak to her instead of ogling!

But despite her annoyance at their stares, she had never once gone over there and berated them for it. Was she scared of them? They were both so popular at school that one bad word out of her mouth would send an army of fan girls to her house with pitchforks and flame torches. She shivered involuntarily.

But they wouldn't stop staring. Sakura hosed down the carnations and sunflowers (or whatever flower that was, that her mother was into this month) and spun around to face her audience. Sasuke's face remained impassive but even from this distance she could see the grin spreading across Naruto's.

'That is it!'

Fuming, Sakura stalked over to them. "What the hell do you two think you're staring at?"

"You," Sasuke said, nonchalantly and Naruto chuckled.

"Well, stop it!"

"No." The raven haired boy did not look intimidated by her, or offended. Naruto continued to grin at her.

She frowned. "Why not?"

Sasuke sighed and the blonde answered for him. "Because you're so fucking hot."

She felt her jaw drop. 'W-what did you say?"

Naruto jumped over the patio railing and landed lithely on the ground next to his friend. "I said you're hot. Only an idiot wouldn't want to fuck you."

That inner voice of hers flared up.

'Oh really, then why have neither of you tried?'

But outside of her head, she didn't know what to say. She was frustrated at their behaviour and a little turned on by the expressions they were both now casting her way, but the strongest sensation was the dancing butterflies forming in her stomach.

Sasuke saved her. "Naruto and I are best friends. We have been since before we could pronounce the words properly. So when we both saw you when you first moved in and both wanted to fuck you, we couldn't. Do you see the dilemma?"

Slowly, she nodded her head, mute and in shock.

'The bonds of friendship are more important to them than a contest to get laid.'

So, he was saying that he and Naruto don't ever compete with each other over girls. Most male friends entered these kinds of contests with each other. Sakura had learnt this the hard way at her old school, having lost her virginity to a guy who just wanted to win a bet with his friends. And even though Sasori hadn't made a bet with his friends to sleep with her (that she knew of), she had fucked him enough times to know that life was just plain cruel. It had just been sex for him, anyway.

But because of her natural tendency toward secrecy and respect for her own private life, people thought she was less experienced than she really was.

"Normally," Naruto said seriously, "teme and I have entirely different tastes in girls. This makes it easier not to ruin our friendship. We've never wanted to fuck the same girl like this before."

Sakura's eyes widened. 'Like what?'

She swallowed heavily, struggling to control her breathing under the intense glare of them both. They looked so collected, yet ravenous at the same time.

"And me?" She asked, only half-heartedly wanting to know the answer.

Sasuke smiled. She had yet to see him do that. It was always boredom, irritation or a smirk on his face. "It seems we've reached an impasse," he stated. "And there's only one option left, other than pretending from here on out, that you don't exist."

"Which is very difficult," Naruto added, his eyes raking her body. "Especially when you're dressed like that." He indicated to her skimpy clothes and she narrowed her eyes at him warningly.

He grinned. "All we're saying is this needs an immediate resolution."

Sakura felt suddenly wary. "What kind of resolution?"

"A three-way," Sasuke said matter-of-factly, making the pinkette blush profusely.

"Or one at a time," Naruto interjected, "if the idea of a threesome creeps you out."

Sakura was having trouble breathing. The two hottest guys in school were both attracted to her, and wanted her AT THE SAME TIME! She forced herself to calm down, not wanting to give herself a stroke. It was hot enough already, even though she was shaded under the large tree that stood in Sasuke's front yard.

While Sasuke looked his usual, aloof self, Naruto's face conveyed hope and just a hint of concern. It was incredibly cute.

'Oh my god girl, they both want to fuck you! Calm the fuck down and just jump them already!'

She knew she wanted to, and that just the thought of sliding naked between them was getting her hot, but she worried all the same. What would happen after? Would they just go back to staring at her from across the road anyway? Or would they revert to their first option and decide to pretend she didn't exist? She really didn't want to be used again. It was an old song for her.

Sakura inhaled deeply, and they waited patiently, noting her concern. But neither attempted to alleviate her worries – they wanted her to make this decision herself, no pressure. Still, in some small, twisted way, that inner voice of hers was right. And with that thought, she decided, holding herself straight and taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I've had a threesome before. They don't scare me."

Both boys were surprised by her audacity, but Sasuke hid it well.

Naruto grinned at her. "So you're all for it?"

She nodded and both of them inhaled softly, as if in anticipation.

"Sure," she said, "as long as this isn't some trick to humiliate me."

"Why would we do that?"

She pulled a face at the blonde and he chuckled. Sasuke stood straight; he had been leaning against the tree. He smirked.

"Your place or mine?"

Naruto burst out laughing and Sakura giggled. "Do you have air-conditioning?"

The Uchiha nodded.

"You don't?" Naruto asked. "In this heat?"

She sighed. "My parents are lazy asses."

"Come on," Naruto took her hand, "let's get you inside."

Sakura was nervous yes, considering whose house this was and what they were about to do. That threesome she had had was with Sasori and a girl who lived down the road from him, called Karin. Sakura knew her from Sasuke's fan club, but had had no idea that she'd had her eyes on Sasori as well.

'That should've been my first hint,' she thought.

Sakura noted how much nicer the Uchiha house was compared to hers – not just the sweet cool air from the air con, but the more expensive furniture, the uncluttered wall cabinets that hinted they had a professional cleaner, but also the glass back patio doors and the bone white walls and fixtures. She was glad she hadn't invited the boys back to her place.

"Teme's room is upstairs," Naruto said, after Sakura declined their offer of 'nourishments' in the kitchen.

He led the way, with the pinkette in the middle. She smirked at that. Sasuke's room was a surprise to Sakura. There were no posters of naked or half naked women, and he had an adjoining bathroom. But the bed covers were a dark blue and he had his own entertainment system – a HD TV, surround sound, desktop computer (and a laptop sitting next to it), and with stereo system hooked up that could shake the furniture.

Sasuke noticed her approval and smirked. "You should see Itachi's room."

Sakura turned toward the bed. It was king sized. Naruto and Sasuke were already shirtless, and she sighed at their intrigued expressions. They were waiting for her to even the playing field. This gave her a boost of confidence.

She giggled. "You two are so typical."

She lifted her singlet over her head, revealing the white, lacy bra underneath, and dumped it on the floor. Sakura then sat on the edge of the bed, undid her shorts, and slipped them off. The boys were clearly every excited, by both her barely covered breasts and the slight shape under her white and pink knickers.

Sakura giggled again. "Come on, don't leave a girl hanging."

They undid their respective pants, pulling down their underwear and climbed onto the bed – Sasuke on the right, Naruto on the left. She realised suddenly that they'd had threesomes with girls before – well perhaps with four of them. There was this rumour shortly after Sakura had arrived in Konoha, that Sasuke and Naruto had been caught on school grounds having sex with two girls. It had been a very erotic rumour.

She wondered briefly if it had had less to do with their friendship, and more to do with actual girlfriends, or something like that. The rumours never did say for sure, but it was implied.

Sakura licked her lips, eyeing them off. They were both well endowed, though Sasuke looked about half an inch longer. She tore her eyes away from their limp organs and pushed herself backwards on the bed. She wanted a little foreplay first. They both grinned at her – though Sasuke's was more like a smirk – clearly seeing who she would choose first. A little teasing was in order. She wanted to fuck Sasuke more than Naruto, but didn't want the blonde to realise this, so she summoned him over to her with a wiggle of her finger. She gave him permission to remove her bra, and then as Naruto lowered his lips to her hardened nipples, she shifted her right leg to indicate without words for Sasuke to move. He repositioned himself and slid his fingers under her panties, pulling them off of her in one swift movement.

Sakura moaned, her left hand playing with Naruto's hair as Sasuke spread her legs. She was already wet from the attention so far. He noticed this and ran his fingers along the inside of her thighs before dipping his head between them. Sasuke's tongue played with her clitoris and she sighed with contentment. He nibbled it softly for a moment and then moved his exploration to her wet sex, parting her folds with his fingers.

Sasuke tongue fucked her roughly, and she arched her back, her body shuddering uncontrollably. At the sound of her cries, Naruto moved his mouth off of her breasts (his left hand continued to squeeze them alternatively) and travelled up to her throat, her jaw line, her cheek and then finally, she parted her lips to let him in. His kiss was tantalising, his tongue on fire as she wrapped an arm around the back of his head, pulling him to her to deepen the kiss. And boy did Naruto know how to kiss!

She was on sensory overdrive; Sasuke's thrusting sending involuntary shivers of warmth upward through her body, as Naruto occupied her nipples and mouth in a wave of groans emanating from them both.

She bit Naruto's bottom lip as Sasuke grinded her pussy. It was all too much to bear, and letting the shudder of her body take control, she came into Sasuke's mouth. Sakura tried to control her breathing as both boys pulled away. She was so blissful right then, not quite recovered when they switched places. After Naruto made her come again, she realised that he was better at the kissing, while Sasuke was better at getting the juices flowing.

She sat up with great effort, and noticed that both boys were almost erect. Just the sight of her, flustered, flushed and naked was enough to give their dicks a 'leg up', but turning her on had taken them so much higher. It was her turn. She grabbed both their dicks gently, Naruto's in her left hand, Sasuke's in her right, and started to rub them softly, making both of their faces glaze over as the pleasure took hold.

She sucked on Naruto first, giving him throbbing, before moving onto Sasuke's. Sakura was enjoying herself. For the first time since she had walked in on Sasori and Karin fucking in his living room, the pinkette was actually having fun. She licked, caressed, and sucked their dicks, letting the full lengths of their shafts enter her mouth, but once they were both sufficiently hard, the muscles aching to release, she pulled away.

So far, Sakura had played nice, giving them equal attention. But her urge to fuck Sasuke was the strongest and she no longer intended on ignoring this. Still, the deal had been that she fucked them both, at the same time, and if she was going to let Naruto fuck her arse, she was going to do it right. The walls inside there were easier to tear, as there was no cum to moisten it.

She cleared her throat. "Sasuke, do you have any kind of lubricant?"

"Hn."

The boys realised what she was up to when she squirted the lubricant Sasuke had handed her onto her hands and started to lather Naruto's penis. He was quite enjoying it, she could tell. He didn't seem to mind that she wanted Sasuke at the front. His endearing smile and pleasant temperament had her bedazzled. If she was up to it after, she would let him in the front after, but Sakura had never had a three-way like this before, and wasn't about to make a promise to herself that she would not be too exhausted to keep.

Sasuke had also collected a box of condoms from his bedside drawer and Sakura waited as he put one on. He and Naruto sat on their calves – facing each other – with Sakura between them, facing Sasuke. With Sasuke sheathed and Naruto lubricated, Sakura lifted herself over the best friends, using Sasuke for support as Naruto held his hands to her hips to steady her balance. The bulbous tips of their lengths lifted up to meet her wet sex as the boys rose to their knees and Sakura let out an involuntary half-scream as they both entered her.

'Kami, that is good…'

It was so different as well. With her legs apart as far as they could go in this position, Sasuke and Naruto both helped to support her. She moved with them, moaning in delight with every thrust, every grind that sent her senses into overdrive once more. Her body trembled without permission and she barely noticed that Naruto was using his left hands to fondle her breasts from behind while Sasuke had taken to fiddling with her clitoris, his fingers rubbing circles around the bud. Kami, this was heaven!

While Naruto pressed up against her and kissed her left earlobe every time his dick dug deeper, she held tightly to Sasuke's shoulders as he stared intently into her eyes, their foreheads pressed together. He seemed unable to speak, only exhaling deep moans that coincided with his own, thrusts.

Sakura barely had to move her own hips, being pounded so deeply from both ends, but she kept the momentum going nonetheless, not wanting to let the boys do all the work. The look on Sasuke's face showed that he appreciated it, and Naruto started to whisper his dirty thoughts to her, his warm breath tickling her ear.

Sakura could feel herself starting to climax.

"I'm… almost… there.."

She mewled, the words erupting out of her in between half-screaming groans, and the boys moaned their agreement. They pushed harder, grinding faster and her breasts were bouncing up and down now, her body rising and falling with greater speed. After a few minutes, they pressed themselves tightly to her, so much so that Sasuke's chest was now inhibiting the bobbing of her breasts. His head rested on her right shoulder, Naruto's on her left.

Three… two… one…

Sakura cried out as she came, and then groaned with a tremble of her body as both boys let looses inside of her. Except that Naruto's cum filled the passage in her arse, while Sasuke leaked into the condom he was still wearing. God, she was buggered. She didn't move, trying to regain some energy before separating herself from the boys. They didn't seem to want to move either, both still resting inside of her. Sakura closed her heavy eyelids, intending on just resting for a moment.

Sasuke realised she was falling asleep from the exhaustion and lifted her head up. "Naruto, we better move before she passes out."

Sakura made a soft, mewl of complaint as they pulled out of her that was greeted by satisfied smirks as they laid her back against the pillows on Sasuke's bed.

"I think we wore her out, teme."

"Fuck Naruto, what was your first clue?"

"No need to get snappy… is she asleep?"

Sasuke looked down at the pinkette, whose eyes were now tightly shut. "Yeah, I think so."

"Damn, she was good."

Sasuke smiled at that. "Yeah, I was surprised too."

"But…" The blonde trailed off.

Sasuke knew his friend too well. "You want a frontal fuck."

It wasn't a question.

Naruto sighed, his eyes trailed down Sakura's body, from those full, glistening breasts, down to that delicious pussy of hers. He was an unusual creature, one moment wanting to push his raw shaft into her sex hard and fast, the next satisfied with the arse fuck and ready to leave. Sasuke smirked at him, knowing he had no intention of asking any more of the pinkette.

"Where are you going, teme?"

"To have a shower, dobe. Stay with her in case she wakes up."

Sakura didn't feel Naruto lay down next to her, or his fingers brushing the hair out of her eyes. He continued to rape her with his eyes however, sighing as he knew also that nothing more was going to happen here. She also didn't hear the ring tone on his mobile or his cussing as he jumped off the bed and answered his phone. It was his mother and he was expected home.

"Yeah, I'm at teme's place, alright, I'm coming home."

He hung up on her. Naruto dressed and shook Sakura softly. She was under deep, so he let her be and exited the house. Sasuke knew him well enough to know he'd have left under protest, so he didn't concern himself. Teme wouldn't be rousing on him anytime soon.

Sakura woke up a little while later, alone in Sasuke's bed, naked but under the covers. Someone had made sure she felt comfortable when she woke up. She waited for a minute, then realised that she was indeed alone. Annoyed, she got out of the bed and found her clothes, dressing absentmindedly. But more than annoyed, she was embarrassed. She still couldn't believe she had just had sex with both Sasuke and Naruto at the same time. She heard a sound coming from the kitchen when her feet touched the bottom of the internal staircase a few minutes later. She was torn between her desire to just run for it, and the scent in the air of food cooking. The overwhelming smell of sex lingering in Sasuke's bedroom had driven her out of there as she'd hurriedly dressed, and even though she was now decent and had recovered from her 'encounter', she was suddenly wary about facing Sasuke again.

That was a different kind of threesome, where she had been the centre of attention, so she still felt uneasy about it. She'd felt her insides pressed from both ends to an extreme she couldn't put into words. It made her giddy just thinking about it. Once upon a time, she worried if she ever had a threesome that she'd become some kind of slut, which she now knew had nothing to do with it, but one more time in that position, pressed against two hot and very male bodies and it was likely to push her over the edge. And despite how horny this unusual heatwave in Konoha had made her feel, she still valued relationships more than sex.

'But not by much.'

'Shut up!'

That was so not true.

'I hate you, inner Sakura.'

"Sakura?"

She mentally slapped herself. She'd let out a soft gasp at the strange thoughts going through her head, and now Sasuke's voice was acting like a magnet and she was being pulled into the kitchen.

"You don't have to run off in shame," he said.

She noticed Naruto was nowhere to be seen. "I'm not ashamed of what we did."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Pickles."

She couldn't help the giggles. "What?"

He looked serious. "I like pickles. What about you? You can help yourself to anything you want."

"Why?"

"Sex makes me hungry," he said blandly.

"I have food at my house I can eat."

"But you don't have air-conditioning."

Sakura frowned at him. "If you want me to stay and eat your food, then just come right out and say it."

"I want you to stay and eat my food."

"Alright, but I hate pickles."

He smirked. "So you'd prefer something a bit more sweet?"

"Yep."

"I can't stand anything too sweet," he said, watching her raid his fridge, expressionless.

His eyes trailed over her body instinctively, but what was taking centre stage in his mind was the fluttering of his heart. Naruto had clearly left, but had sent Sasuke a text that he'd scratched his itch. It meant that he was returning to trying to seduce Hinata Hyuuga. The girl was virginal, beautiful and had favourably sized breasts. The downside? She was high society, and for Naruto, 'untouchable'. Sasuke had never seen Naruto and Hinata in the same room together, so he wasn't sure if the Hyuuga would go for his friend or not. Still, he wished his best mate good luck.

'He's gonna need it.'

And of course, that meant that if he wanted to, Sasuke could have Sakura all to himself. He really wanted to. He couldn't explain his need for her with words. Until now, he'd thought that all it was was that he wanted to fuck her. But he had just done that, and this strange feeling was still there. He wasn't a complete idiot. He knew now that he had feelings for her. But how deep could they possibly run? After all, he didn't actually know her all that well, if at all.

"Are you okay, Sasuke?" Sakura asked realising the Uchiha was deep in thought.

He just nodded, so she ate her meal quietly. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, and she was reminded of how he and Naruto had been staring at her outside this house. She pushed her plate away.

"So, it's back to the whole staring thing again, huh?" She asked, pouting but not actually annoyed.

Sasuke smirked. "Hn. You're still wearing that outfit."

"It's a singlet and shorts Sasuke, it's hardly an outfit."

"Well, it's turning me on, either way."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not fucking you again."

He sighed, disappointed. "While sleeping with you again, is definitely on my mind, there's something else I wanted to ask you."

"What is it?"

"My father's hosting the policeman's ball this weekend –"

"And what, you want me to be your date?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then what –"

"I never go to those stupid dances," he said matter-of-factly. "Itachi does. I wanted to know if you'll go out with me, somewhere far, far away from the ridiculous ball."

Sakura stood up, walked over to him, and stopped only a few inches away. "You want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Forget it!" He snapped. "If you're going to be sarcastic about it –"

She cut him off with a kiss, throwing her arms around his neck and hesitating only for a moment, Sasuke returned the kiss, his hands falling to her waist. She tantalized him with her tongue, sending shivers down his spine. Okay, he was falling for her, but these emotions were still confusing to him. He had never been in love before….

Sakura pulled out of the kiss and rested her forehead on his. "What about that speech you and Naruto gave me about how friends come first?"

"Well, Naruto's gone back to trying to seduce Hinata Hyuuga."

"Really?"

"Hn."

"Who's Hinata Hyuuga?"

Sasuke laughed softly. "I forgot you're new in town. You haven't heard about the Hyuuga family?"

"The family yes, but not Hinata. None of their names are familiar to me."

"Well anyway," he said, not wanting to dwell on that. "Will you go out with me?"

"Oh yes Sasuke-kun, most definitely, yes."

He leant in to kiss her again and lifted her up to sit on the kitchen table. Despite her earlier comment, Sasuke was suddenly hard, and lowered his hand to caress her clothed breasts. She moaned into his mouth, her lips parted to let him in. He really wanted it, right now, so to coax her he rubbed her nipples with both thumbs, in circular motions. This elicited a soft mewl of appreciation from her mouth. He pressed his erection against her and her eyes widened, realising how much he wanted from her.

But before she could stop him, he unzipped his jeans to release his readied flesh. He pulled her shorts down to her ankles, spread her legs, parted her knickers at her wet sex, and slammed into her core without a moment's hesitation. She half-screamed, both shocked, and excited by the sudden penetration. He groaned as her hands flew out, knocking kitchen utensils onto the floor.

Sakura rolled her eyes. Okay, so she was fucking him again after all. He was incorrigible. It had to be that Uchiha dominating streak she'd heard so much about. She leant backward against the table with her hands for support and cried out, moving her hips down to meet his.

"S-Sasuke-kun! Harder! Aah!"

He groaned. "Fucking hell."

His hands lifted her singlet and pulled the straps of her bra down to expose her breasts without removing any articles of clothing. He cupped her breasts, thrusting harder now, and biting her bottom lip softly. He hadn't given her time to moisten, but she was already partway there, feeling his erection and his hands on her. Sakura called out Sasuke's name, swearing and moaning her pleasure at the top of her lungs, writhing under his grasp.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" He grunted in time with every plunge.

Sasuke grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled her toward him with every thrust heightening the sensation. The table shook dangerously underneath them but they ignored it. He continued to grind her, and a few minutes later, they both came together. Sasuke rested his head on her shoulders, still nestled inside of her, and she ran her hands through his dark hair lovingly. It was so exhausting; he couldn't believe he'd gotten it all out so easily. He knew from experience that he couldn't handle too much sex in one day. But this was close to the last time and he planned to take the rest of the day to recuperate.

Sakura lifted his head to look in his eyes. "That's what you get for not asking for permission first."

She'd noted his extreme fatigue and laced her words with sarcasm, but her mouth twitched into a seductive smile and he returned the affection.

"Come on," he said, kissing her swiftly and pulling away. "Let's go up to my room."

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was planning, as she slid off the table and fixed her clothes.

Sasuke smirked. "Don't worry, I won't be trying that again for today. But my house has air-conditioning, and better yet, my bed still smells of sex."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, but just keep her hands and… other things where they should be."

He grinned at her wickedly and having turned away from him, she didn't notice the mischievous glint in his eyes.

X X X

[pokemoncaretips]

Any tips on the Deerling line? I see them wandering around in the woods near my house pretty often, and I love the way their coats change color- but I’m hesitant to commit to catching and training one since I’m unfamiliar with their needs.

A shy and nervous pokemon with a sweet nature underneath.

General notes: Deerling are fairly widespread pokemon, though with how shy they are you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. However, they do have a reputation as pests.

General care: Deerling are better for people in rural areas, as they need a good sized paddock to roam around in. This paddock should have a warm dry stable, a source of fresh water, and a source of shade, ideally trees. You'll need very high fencing, as deerling and sawsbuck are capable of jumping very high. Many supply shops sell deerling fences that are around 2 metres high. So there's a fair set up cost involved in securing the enclosure.

And you'll have to, because deerling are considered pests for a good reason. They'll descend on gardens and paddocks and strip them bare. Even a small herd can be destructive. And as many farmers have lycanrocs for herd defence, it's in your best interest and the deerlings to keep them under lock and key, as it isn't illegal for farmers to, uh..."deal with" deerling that are damaging their property.

You'll need other pokemon around, as deerling get anxious alone. Other deerling are best, but other farm pokemon such as miltank, wooloo, mudsdale etc can make good friends with them.

If you have just a back yard, don't despair. You can still set up fences, but the smaller space will need more toys and enrichment, and you'll have to supplement with pellets. A backyard deerling also benefits from being harness trained and taken for walks. You'll only be able to keep one deerling, so long as you have other pokemon in your team.

Bonding with them isn't hard, they're food orientated, and a few weeks of treats and head scratches will have them friendly as anything. Be prepared, though, as they headbutt those they like. And it hurts.

If you see them near you in the woods, you can get quite friendly with them. But secure your property if you don't want them following you and destroying your garden en masse.

Sawsbuck need more food, but as well they have different tempers in each season. If you want to tame a sawsbuck, the winter form is calmer. Do not, under any circumstances, approach the males in autumn. Care rating: Orange.

Training: Deerling can be obstinate. They aren't exactly the smartest pokemon around, as well, but they aren't impossible to train, and respond well to food as an incentive. Training rating: Green.

Safety: When I said do not approach the male sawsbuck in autumn, I meant it. This is the season they fight for mates, and their hormones run rampant. People have died.

Deerling themselves are fairly safe for people. They may headbutt when playful or annoyed, but despite it being a little painful, they can't really do much damage. Safety rating: Green (red in autumn)

Overall ranking. Like many livestock pokemon, deerling require a fair amount of work and space. They're often sweet natured once you get past their shyness, but they're the living embodiment of the phrase "good fences make good neighbours".

[somediyprojects]

DIY Copper + Branch Floor Lamp

Project by Kate Pruitt:

We have this very annoying tree right outside our apartment that blocks all light from our windows, thwarting the sun’s attempts to warm us with its golden rays of energy. Damn you, tree! Recently I begged our landlord to at least consider trimming it back, and he finally relented, which left me with both a modicum of precious sunlight and some great large branches to use for projects! One of the felled limbs was especially long and solid and had a wonderful, gentle arc that just seemed so lamplike; I couldn’t resist. “I’ve lost my purpose. Make me a light!” it cried. Not really.

With autumn upon us, I decided to pair the branch with rich, warm copper and used a lovely sap-green color on the base to complement the season. Personally, I like the wonky bare-bones style of this little lamp, but if you wanted to dress it up a bit (my boyfriend said the copper part looked like a shower head . . . not cool dude), you could easily make or buy a solid cylindrical shade to place over the bulb. Now, don’t go hacking down trees like I did, but if you happen upon a fallen branch, I hope you’ll try this simple lighting project. Happy crafting! — Kate

Materials

large branch (Look for one that isn’t too perfectly straight or too twisty but has a slight arc to it and is at least 1.5″ thick at its base to ensure it’s sturdy enough.)

log stump slice (Mine is prop from a friend’s wedding, but you can ask around at lumber yards for these, or you could buy several thinner ones from craft stores like Michael’s and glue a stack together to make a thick base. If all else fails, try searching for firewood sellers on Craigslist, and ask if they have any stumps they could cut for you.)

4–6 small eye hooks (depending on the length/height of your branch)

15–20′ black lamp cord

chandelier socket kit

6″ copper pipe (1/2″ diameter — you can have this cut for you, or buy a standard length and use a pipe cutter to cut yourself)

90-degree copper elbow (1/2″ diameter)

1/2″ to 3/4″ copper coupling

3/4″ copper coupling (NOTE: All the copper pipe and pieces can be found at larger hardware stores like Ace, OSH, Home Depot, Lowe’s, etc., in the plumbing dept.)

high-gloss paint and foam paintbrush (any color you want, I chose sap green)

palm sander or sandpaper

drill with standard bit, 1.5″ boring bit (also known as a paddle bit) and a 1/2″ boring/paddle bit

25- to 40-watt chandelier-size lightbulb

Instructions

1. Sand your wood stump slice and cut the bottom edge of your branch with a saw to make a flat surface. Hold the branch over your wood stump to determine placement. I decided to set mine off-center for looks and to offset the arc of the lamp, but you could also place it in the center. Trace the branch with a pencil to mark the spot.

2. Use your 1.5″ boring bit to drill a circular hole in the center of where you traced the branch. Then switch to a small drill bit (1/8″ or smaller) to drill a small pilot hole directly through the center of the hole through the entire stump. This is the pilot hole for the screw or nail that you will embed from the bottom.

3. Place a good amount of wood glue onto the bottom of your branch and into the hole you made, then put the branch in place. Put tape around the base to secure it in place and set aside for the glue to dry. You may need to prop the branch against a wall to hold it in place while the glue dries.

4. Once the glue is dry, hammer a 2″ nail or screw a flathead screw into the base of the branch from the underside of the stump, using the pilot hole you pre-drilled. This is not necessarily needed, but I like to add it for extra stability on top of the glue.

5. Assemble your copper fittings and pipe together as shown below, and hold it up to the branch to determine where you want the pipe to extend. Mark the place on the branch where the pipe will come out, and also mark on the pipe where it hits the back of the branch to determine the correct length to cut the pipe.

6. Use your 1/2″ drill bit to drill straight through the branch. Drill slowly and carefully to avoid cracking the branch, and don’t go so far up the branch that the hole is almost the exact width of the branch; ideally, you want at least 1/4″ to 1/2″ clearance on the width. Use your pipe cutter to cut the pipe to length.

7a. Prepare your copper parts for assembly by removing stickers and cleaning them. Use scissors to gently strip 1″ of the lamp cord to expose the copper wires. If you examine your lamp cord, you will see that one of the cords has ridges and one side is completely smooth. You will also notice on your chandelier socket that one screw is brass/gold and the other is silver. Wrap the copper wire of the cord with ridges to the silver side, and wrap the copper wire of the smooth cord to the gold side (see second image below). Then slide the protective cardboard sleeve back over the socket.

7b. Now thread your 1/2″ to 3/4″ coupling onto the cord, with the larger side facing the socket, and slip it over the top of the socket. Slide your copper elbow onto the cord, as well, and fit the two copper pipes together. Then slide the last 3/4″ coupling over the cardboard sleeve so that the end of the copper coupling extends just a hair beyond the cardboard sleeve.

8. Slide your cord through the hole until the pipe reaches the branch, then wedge the pipe into the branch until it hits the back of the hole but does not extend out (see first image below). Then attach your small eye hooks so that the cord will match the curves of the branch. Thread the cord through the eye hooks.

9. Paint the top of your log with two to three even coats of high-gloss paint, allowing the paint to dry between coats. Tape up the cord during this process so it doesn’t get in the way.

10. Install the plug on the end of the lamp cord, using the same wiring technique from Step 7: Remove the rubber on the last 1″ to reveal copper wires and twist the copper around the screws, pairing the ridged cord with the silver screw and the smooth cord with the gold screw.

You’re done!

[nancypullen]

Nine Days Later...

Good grief, I posted about the powder room makeover and then disappeared.  We’ve been busy around here.  I’ve been doing lots of yard work and that makes me happy.  I have high hopes.  I’ve been cleaning up the tree line, raking fertilizer and soil into flowers beds, scattering zinnia seeds and sunflower seeds (cross your fingers) and generally getting ready for the blooming season.  It’s weird not having a plant nursery nearby.  There are a couple of small greenhouses, but right now they have mostly veggies, hanging baskets, and ferns.  I’m on the hunt for a flat of red vinca and maybe some speedwell.   Last week we drove into Dover to visit Home Depot.  It’s nearly an hour trip and it looks mostly like this.

Loads of farms and everything is looking green. Hello, spring! There’s a Lowe’s closer to us, but there’s no sales tax in Delaware.  Does it make sense to use extra gas to avoid sales tax?  I guess it depends on how large of a purchase you’re making.  For us, it’s fencing.  I just want a strip of pretty fence in the back yard between us and the woodsy area. If we can get it done soon I can create a pretty flower bed in front of it. I’ve done my part.  The mister bought me this little beauty and I spent two days taking out small trees and all manner of scrubby, weedy, bushes.

I have a fabulous chainsaw (it’s PINK!) but this was perfect for the job at hand.  It came with two batteries, so no gas or power cords are involved.  It’s lightweight but packs a punch.  It zipped through everything I needed to zip through and in no time at all I had piles of trunks and branches for the town to pick up.  It was a hot mess back there, and now it looks much tidier. I look like I fought off a mountain lion, but it’s done!  I’ll share pics when the fence is up.  Well, maybe sooner - as soon as the piles of tree remains get picked up.    One individual who is enjoying that tree line is Stanley.  He lounges under the birdfeeder and plays in the birdbath. He also drinks from the bird bath, but he spends a lot of time making ripples and chasing leaves around in the water.

That was pre-cleanup.  I snapped it through the kitchen window.  I don’t know Stanley’s real name, I just know that I worried about him all winter and then a couple of weeks ago he showed up wearing a collar bearing a last name and an address just two houses down.  I may be responsible for his pot belly.  I was just trying to get him through the cold months.  Oops. But back to the yard - my little Jane Magnolia bloomed like crazy, even though she’s barely a yard high.  I planted a lilac bush and a beauty berry bush (for the birdies). I put some Morning Glory seeds in the ground near the corner of the porch, hoping that it twines along the porch railings and offers pretty blue blooms.  Mickey hung a birdhouse in the Crape Myrtle tree for me, that’s also at the corner of the porch.  The front porch is in an L shape and I’ve claimed that short side as my own.  That’s where the tree is, that’s where I’ll hang a hummingbird feeder, that’s where the lilac is planted and where I hope the Morning Glory vines will bloom.  Mickey put a little wicker loveseat there for me and I can sit in the shade and listen to bird song and smell the gardens.  I’m finding my way home again.  It takes a lot of hard work to carve out a patch of paradise, but we’re getting there.  It’ll be years before most of what I’m planting matures, but by then I’ll be grateful.  Heck, I’m grateful now. I’m also very grateful for my sister.  She drove over last week and brought a car load of dolls and doll paraphernalia.  Her daughter was into all of the American Girl stuff and she no longer wanted any of it.  Two lovely dolls, beds, clothes, all manner of sports equipment (even a pup tent) , a salon chair for getting their hair done.  There are even books! I took some time to empty the closet in the grandgirl’s room to make way for all of this wonderful treasure.  While I was organizing the bounty a certain kitty claimed the bunk beds. 

She fell into a deep sleep, so I saved the beds for last. I should have poked her, gotten in her face, sat on her chest, and cried.  That’s what she does to me in the morning.  Anyway, I’m grateful for my very generous sister.  Our little miss will have a ball with all of this.

Did I mention how much fun the grandgirl had with the Egg-mazing?

You just pop a hard boiled egg into that egg-shaped spot and turn on the motor.  It spins the egg while you apply color.  These eggs were created by a 5 year old!

Prettiest eggs in town!  Easter already feels like a month ago. We’ve got a lot to look forward to - blooming season, grilling season, beach season, and more!  MY two sweet sons have planned a trip for July and will be flying off to Berlin and then to Prague.  I know they’ll have a blast.  They’ll probably visit plenty of spy museums and WWII sites.  I want them to go to the Lennon Wall in Prague and write, “My mom said to be nice.” Sorry for the boring post but I’ve been spending my days cutting down trees and digging in the dirt.  If it kills me I’m going to make every corner of this place beautiful.  Then I’ll sit on my little loveseat  on the porch, under the shade of a tree full of singing birds, and enjoy the heck out of it. Come sit with me! I’ll make lemonade and finger sandwiches and we’ll talk about nothing and everything. Doesn’t that sound nice? Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’ve got some crafty stuff in the works and I’ll share that with you tomorrow.  For now I’m off to a bubble bath and then I’m getting under the covers with a cat and a book. Livin’ on the edge. I hope that spring is filling your world with delight right now, wherever you are.  I know some areas are getting winter’s last blast, but I’ll bet that daffodils are right behind it.  Keep the faith! Stay safe, stay well, take good care.

XOXO, Nancy

[juniusgirl]

I had this giant golden when i was young that could open the sliding glass door. He'd get up on his hind legs, grab the door handle with his mouth (how...it was one of these:)

And then he'd push off the frame with his front paws. He was a clever dog, but a bit inconsiderate, as he never closed the door after himself. Still, the other dogs at the very least seemed to love it.

He would even try to do it when it was locked, and as anyone who has ever had a sliding glass door probably knows, the locks are pretty shit, and sometimes he could get it open just by trying hard enough. Eventually, of course, it broke entirely, and like in the video, or rather like anyone who has had a sliding glass door more than a year old, we put a piece of wood in the frame to keep it closed.

Of course, the stick method was far more effective, which meant our clever golden couldn't brute force it open if it were "locked" anymore. Which wasn't usually a problem, except for situations like this.

I more than once had been locked out of the house, sometimes on accident. Usually we had a spare key outside but in this particular incident it wasn't available for whatever reason. Naturally i tried to do this very thing with him. Like i said he was a very clever dog. He knew i wanted in! He tried the handle! But it just wouldn't budge.

I was reviewing my options, i couldn't get to a window i knew was unlocked without a ladder and we didn't have one. I had learned to pick one of my locks recently but i didn't have anything i could use for that on me. No one would be home for hours. My closest friends at the time, whose houses i'd just walked home from, lived 3 miles away. Looked like i might be stuck.

Then our other golden came to the door. She was also a smart dog, but more passive--a therapy dog actually--and she had some medical problems that meant standing up on her hind legs was difficult. But you know what she loved more than anything (besides disgustingly dirty scraps of old toys)? Sticks.

So i essentially started doing this, encouraging her to grab the stick, to show me her stick, get me the stick!

There was a lot of barking. A lot of tail-wagging. A lot of me getting more and more frustrated and desperate in the hot summer sun. But in the end....

She never figured it out. Luckily we had a big tree in our front yard so i climbed back over our fence and hung out in the shade until my mom came home. But i recognize sound effort, so we did play tug with a rank piece of what might have been a toy pheasant after dinner. She won.

This dog unlocked the door for his human

[eviesessays]

40. What simple pleasures of life do you truly enjoy?

One of the greatest pleasures in life that I enjoyed for many years was travelling.  Now, at my advanced age I am too old, decrepit and compromised to be so adventuresome.  Changing planes in foreign airports terrifies me now.  Dealing with foreign currency was made  easier with the advent of the euro but still challenging.  Making myself understood with little command of the language spoken gave me moments of anxiety if not exasperation.  These days I have no such concerns.  My simple pleasure requires none of the aforementioned risks and is a pleasure I have enjoyed for many years and continue to enjoy.

I love gardening.  My home on Mountain Road has many trees and therefore much shade.  Gardening is a challenge.  My garden is confined to flowers.  there is inadequate sun   for growing vegetables.  I can garden for hours on my knees without worrying about falling due to my Parkinson’s.  

I bought the house on a cold January day.  A significant part of the yard was unkempt.  The previous owners said they used this section as a duping place for their used Christmas trees. The weeds and grass were adequate to hide most of the mess.  Many trees in this area were dead and Peter took them all down for me.  He cut them into twelve to fourteen inch pieces and with them I built a wall that separates the back lawn from the wooded area of the lot.  I bought a leaf shredder and began to attack the years of accumulated leaves, weeds and branches.

I have flower beds that separate the lawn from the treed area at the back and side of the lot.  The one thing I grow very successfully is moss but it is green and serves its purpose,

I have an eclectic garden where  i remember friends and family.  I have Rose of Sharon shrubs that came from Heather’s house on Carter Street.  They are prolific seeders and I have started shrubs for my neighbors and my granddaughter, Anne.  My wonderful neighbor, MaryJane gave me an aubergine clematis when my brother Carl died.  It is beautiful and climbs a trellis in front of the sun porch.  I brought two trellises with me from the Warner house and they are now covered with pink rambling roses given to me by a friend from the East Concord Garden Club to which  I had belonged.  Surrounding the base of a large oak and a maple tree is the pachysandra given to me by my elderly neighbor across the street, Mr Colby. All the forsythia was also gifts from his garden. He knew more Concord history than anyone else I knew and was glad to share it.  Once when I was out working in the garden he came over and we chatted a while.  He then said words I have quoted many times.  He said,”My Daddy once told me that if you have nothing to do, don’t go around bothering someone who does.”  He was a wonderful neighbor and I miss his sage stories and kind demeanor. 

On one of their visits from Scotland, my children’s cousin, Maurice and his wife Avril brought lily bulbs from his grandmother’s garden.  They were first planted in Warner and when my house was sold they were dug up and moved to Heather’s garden.  When Heather and John were moving to South Carolina, the lilies were dug up again and moved here. They had two good years and then were attacked by moles or voles or one of the many creatures that raise havoc with bulbs in this area.  Last year I was down to one rather sickly plant and I wait with baited breath to see if one wee shoot might appear.  

I have a red maple from Jaylyn’s yard in Harvard.  It thrives.  I have another that Will brought for my birthday  a few years ago.  It thrives.  A lavender azalea bush came with the house and is very visible from my kitchen window.  In summer the perennials will give color to the garden.  There are daisies in several places in the gardens.  The mullen pinks add vibrant color here and there.  The seeds of those were given to me more than twenty years ago my my coworker, Maggie.  This winter I am trying to winter over some fushia colored geraniums.  I hope I succeed.  The daffodils will be appearing soon along with the hyacinths and then the  tulips, not eaten will appear.  The Asian irises will come later.  My Stella Dora lilies will bloom in great profusion and remind me they need to be thinned.  

I cannot leave this subject without mentioning the garden on Wellington Street where I lived from the age of five til I went away to school at age seventeen.  We had a large vegetable garden in the back yard.  The green beans and wax beans had been   harvested and canned.  Every year when the potatoes were dug we had a potato roast.  My Dad set fire to the garden remnants and we were allowed to throw in the potatoes that were too small to be worth peeling.  The neighbor kids joined us for our annual potato roast.  We searched and found potatoes that we stabbed, added butter and salt and reveled in our annual feast.

I have no potatoes in this garden but I love gardening.  Maybe, I just love playing in the dirt.  One thing I do know is that my garden is where my heart soars and my spirit rests.

[rhondarossano]

Flora and Fauna

Since the daily temperatures have cooled a little bit -highs have been in the low to mid 70's- and the school has already begun Christmas break, I have been planting and transplanting trees and flowers around our property. I was excited to get my delivery of black dirt last Sunday so I cold get started.

Bromeliads- These were in the tree that fell. They are an air plant and are attached to a branch from the tree. They will produce a flower, but we will have to wait to see what color the flower will be. It most likely is a jumbie-pineapple or a pink quill.

Golden Showers Tree. A neighbor gave us this sapling. The first one she gave us died-the temperatures were just too hot and stressed the sapling out. Planting now will give the tree time to establish before the dry season starts. It will have hanging yellow flowers.

Pride of Barbados Tropical Milkweed

Pride of Barbados. These are quite plentiful in Belize. They, along with the Tropical Milkweed, attract butterflies, so I planted one on each side of the front of the house. I found a tropical milkweed near the river and moved it up to the back of the house. It spreads very quickly and is always full of flutterbies.

I had been looking for a small flowering bush to plant in front of the landing of our front staircase, and found this Bermuda thistle in the yard. Once it grows, I think it will look quite nice. I am told it will spread. It also has medicinal properties.

We have found several lilies growing in the yard, too. I can't wait to see what specific types they are. Once they flower, the mystery will be solved. More than likely they are beach spider lilies or swamp lilies. I have moved some of them to the bottom of our outdoor staircases.

Additionally, we have a few Stickpea trees on the property. We just have to decide where we want them to be located; they are too close to the house right now. They will be quite nice when they flower.

I was able to get a few Mother-of-thousands and Aloe vera pups from the succulents growing at the community center. They grow rather quickly, so I am hoping they will fill in this area. The pups sprout around the edges of the leaves and fall to the ground. They remind me how our children are nurtured by their parents, and then, hopefully, put down their own roots and thrive.

I planted some Moses-in-the-cradle plants by our front stairs. These also grow rather easily here. I got a few small ones from the community center grounds.

I am very excited about the fruit trees that have just grown from seeds discarded by the workers who built our house and those given to us by other residents. We have 5 avocado, 2 mango, and 1 guave trees growing. I also have seeds for papaya.

Guave Mango Avocado

We have been growing pineapples from the crowns since we got here. I finally got them in the ground. Each plant will produce several small fruit. All but one will need to be removed to have an edible fruit for harvesting.

We have a very small date palm sapling that is in a pot right now. I hope it gets a large enough to plant in the ground within the month, so it has time to establish its roots before the dry season hits, but we may have to just grow it in a big pot for the next year.

Finally, our Rain Tree is looking lovely. It will grow and be a very nice shade tree in the front yard. It should flower in a few months.

There are so many colorful trees and flowering plants here. I wish I had room for at least one of each in the yard. We are hoping to plant some apple bananas when we create our terrace to the river. We should be in good shape to harvest our own fruits in a few years.

What gifts we have been given!

[konglindorm]

THIRD STORY: THE ENCHANTED FLOWER GARDEN

*edit: I have realized that this translation has excluded the section where the flowers tell their stories; I will post their piece later.*

(Over the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting both the text of the Snow Queen, and my thoughts on it. This is the text of the third section. All text comes from the public domain translation of Andersen’s works edited by J. H. Stickney and published in 1886. The illustrations, by Edna Hart, are from this edition as well.)

But how fared little Gerda in Kai's absence?

What had become of him no one knew, nor could any one give the slightest information, excepting the boys, who said that he had tied his sledge to another very large one, which had driven through the street and out at the town gate. No one knew where it went. Many tears were shed for him, and little Gerda wept bitterly for a long time. She said she knew he must be dead, that he was drowned in the river which flowed close by the school. The long winter days were very dreary. But at last spring came with warm sunshine.

"Kai is dead and gone," said little Gerda.

"I don't believe it," said the sunshine.

"He is dead and gone," she said to the sparrows.

"We don't believe it," they replied, and at last little Gerda began to doubt it herself."I will put on my new red shoes," she said one morning, "those that Kay has never seen, and then I will go down to the river and ask for him.

"It was quite early when she kissed her old grandmother, who was still asleep; then she put on her red shoes and went, quite alone, out of the town gate, toward the river.

"Is it true that you have taken my little playmate away from me?" she said to the river. "I will give you my red shoes if you will give him back to me."

And it seemed as if the waves nodded to her in a strange manner. Then she took off her red shoes, which she liked better than anything else, and threw them both into the river, but they fell near the bank, and the little waves carried them back to land just as if the river would not take from her what she loved best, because it could not give her back little Kai.

But she thought the shoes had not been thrown out far enough. Then she crept into a boat that lay among the reeds, and threw the shoes again from the farther end of the boat into the water; but it was not fastened, and her movement sent it gliding away from the land. When she saw this she hastened to reach the end of the boat, but before she could do so it was more than a yard from the bank and drifting away faster than ever.

Little Gerda was very much frightened. She began to cry, but no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land, but they flew along by the shore and sang as if to comfort her: "Here we are! Here we are!"

The boat floated with the stream, and little Gerda sat quite still with only her stockings on her feet; the red shoes floated after her, but she could not reach them because the boat kept so much in advance.

The banks on either side of the river were very pretty. There were beautiful flowers, old trees, sloping fields in which cows and sheep were grazing, but not a human being to be seen.

"Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kai," thought Gerda, and then she became more cheerful, and raised her head and looked at the beautiful green banks; and so the boat sailed on for hours. At length she came to a large cherry orchard, in which stood a small house with strange red and blue windows. It had also a thatched roof, and outside were two wooden soldiers that presented arms to her as she sailed past. Gerda called out to them, for she thought they were alive; but of course they did not answer, and as the boat drifted nearer to the shore she saw what they really were.

Then Gerda called still louder, and there came a very old woman out of the house, leaning on a crutch. She wore a large hat to shade her from the sun, and on it were painted all sorts of pretty flowers.

"You poor little child," said the old woman, "how did you manage to come this long, long distance into the wide world on such a rapid, rolling stream?" And then the old woman walked into the water, seized the boat with her crutch, drew it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda was glad to feel herself again on dry ground, although she was rather afraid of the strange old woman.

"Come and tell me who you are," said she, "and how you came here."

Then Gerda told her everything, while the old woman shook her head and said, "Hem-hem"; and when Gerda had finished she asked the old woman if she had not seen little Kai. She told her he had not passed that way, but he very likely would come. She told Gerda not to be sorrowful, but to taste the cherries and look at the flowers; they were better than any picture book, for each of them could tell a story. Then she took Gerda by the hand, and led her into the little house, and closed the door. The windows were very high, and as the panes were red, blue, and yellow, the daylight shone through them in all sorts of singular colors. On the table stood some beautiful cherries, and Gerda had permission to eat as many as she would. While she was eating them the old woman combed out her long flaxen ringlets with a golden comb, and the glossy curls hung down on each side of the little round, pleasant face, which looked fresh and blooming as a rose.

"I have long been wishing for a dear little maiden like you," said the old woman, "and now you must stay with me and see how happily we shall live together." And while she went on combing little Gerda's hair the child thought less and less about her adopted brother Kai, for the old woman was an enchantress, although she was not a wicked witch; she conjured only a little for her own amusement, and, now, because she wanted to keep Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden and stretched out her crutch toward all the rose trees, beautiful though they were, and they immediately sank into the dark earth, so that no one could tell where they had once stood. The old woman was afraid that if little Gerda saw roses, she would think of those at home and then remember little Kai and run away.

Then she took Gerda into the flower garden. How fragrant and beautiful it was! Every flower that could be thought of, for every season of the year, was here in full bloom; no picture book could have more beautiful colors. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees; then she slept in an elegant bed, with red silk pillows embroidered with colored violets, and she dreamed as pleasantly as a queen on her wedding day.

The next day, and for many days after, Gerda played with the flowers in the warm sunshine. She knew every flower, and yet, although there were so many of them, it seemed as if one were missing, but what it was she could not tell. One day, however, as she sat looking at the old woman's hat with the painted flowers on it, she saw that the prettiest of them all was a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she made all the roses sink into the earth. But it is difficult to keep the thoughts together in everything, and one little mistake upsets all our arrangements.

"What! are there no roses here?" cried Gerda, and she ran out into the garden and examined all the beds, and searched and searched. There was not one to be found. Then she sat down and wept, and her tears fell just on the place where one of the rose trees had sunk down. The warm tears moistened the earth, and the rose tree sprouted up at once, as blooming as when it had sunk; and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the roses, and thought of the beautiful roses at home, and, with them, of little Kai.

"Oh, how I have been detained!" said the little maiden. "I wanted to seek for little Kay. Do you know where he is?" she asked the roses; "do you think he is dead?"

And the roses answered: "No, he is not dead. We have been in the ground, where all the dead lie, but Kai is not there."

"Thank you," said little Gerda, and then she went to the other flowers and looked into their little cups and asked, "Do you know where little Kai is?" But each flower as it stood in the sunshine dreamed only of its own little fairy tale or history. Not one knew anything of Kai. Gerda heard many stories from the flowers, as she asked them one after another about him.

And then she ran to the other end of the garden. The door was fastened, but she pressed against the rusty latch, and it gave way. The door sprang open, and little Gerda ran out with bare feet into the wide world. She looked back three times, but no one seemed to be following her. At last she could run no longer, so she sat down to rest on a great stone, and when she looked around she saw that the summer was over and autumn very far advanced. She had known nothing of this in the beautiful garden where the sun shone and the flowers grew all the year round.

"Oh, how I have wasted my time!" said little Gerda. "It is autumn; I must not rest any longer," and she rose to go on. But her little feet were wounded and sore, and everything around her looked cold and bleak. The long willow leaves were quite yellow, the dewdrops fell like water, leaf after leaf dropped from the trees; the sloe thorn alone still bore fruit, but the sloes were sour and set the teeth on edge. Oh, how dark and weary the whole world appeared!

[talusnegotiations]

An unusual gait in a familiar place

West End has, far back in my memory, had old, old houses with doors fancy as hell. Some are right on the street, hidden by shrubbery, shade-loving plants, or overgrown ivy. And others, in traditional Queenslander style, have doors visible from afar, across a yard with a waist-high fence (of some kind, be it metal chicken wire or white pickets). The doors stand, an homage to the passing of time.

Of course, as the suburb continues along its gentrification journey, the houses and properties adhere to a homogenous minimalistic, greyish, depressingly treeless fashion (where there are electronic speakers blaring out nondescript but grating music from tiered, tightly manicured garden beds*). But, when walking along the terribly kept, mostly narrow pathways (proverbial weeds; trees, roots sticking out of cracks in the concrete), you can still spot different doors every few houses or so.

-

Walking while disabled

Let me tell you, the newer pathways (corporate-sponsored) are no better for accessibility than the shitty but loveable old, narrow ones which have grown woefully uneven over decades of use.

It is so weird to me, to be the current version of myself, and to be thrust back into such an unsteady walking pattern again. That isn't very clear, is it? Okay.

When I was diagnosed at 4 years old, I was walking on my toes and only my toes. It had taken me a long time to get used to the upright bipedal way of life, but not for lack of trying. Then, as the years went on and I undertook rigorous physical therapy, I also had many operations to improve my gait and stability. There was a lot of physical pain, and a lot of falling onto the ground. I would give you an analogy, but right now that feels like a waste of time. Suffice to say, I always had scraped knees and bruised elbows. My Nonna kept iodine in the kitchen cupboard with the analgesics to disinfect the perpetual wounds on my palms. See, I'd use my hands to break my fall each time, and I had two symmetrical wounds in the hearts of my palms, left and right, like accidental stigmata. Unlike the simpler cuts and bruises, these wounds didn't close up for years, and eventually became infected; I had to go to the doctor for medicine to 'fix' the problem, but the doctor said that as long as I was using my hands to break my fall, it was unlikely that the infection would heal.

The problem was that, because I tripped on my toes a lot, I was always falling forwards, not backwards. And the only way to stop face-planting was to use my hands to break the fall. Childhood lasts a long time, doesn't it?^

Eventually, I was wearing these bulky bandages to cushion my hands during the day, and only took them off at night to sleep. The wounds had time to rest, no longer being directly assaulted by gravel, bitumen, concrete or dirt. Nonna kept the iodine just in case.

-

Oh how the times have changed

Did you know there are no pictures of West End at night (that are free for me to use on this blog)? I would go and take pictures myself, but I'd need a support worker to come with me, and I'd need confidence and maybe a different set of life experiences, but that's just life, isn't it.

As an adult, my walking was so good because of all the work that I'd done, alongside my parents and grandparents, surgeons and treating team, to improve my gait. I didn't fall often. But that's changed, because my ankle had other plans.

-

Grief is a funny thing. If I had a whole lifetime--and I do--there would not be enough time to unpack it.

Where were we? Ah. Yes, the recent days. So, I was in West End the other night for a thing with some friends, and a bunch of acquaintances as well. And, it's been years, literal years, since I have walked the streets of West End. Actually that's a lie. It's been 18 months (but 18 months and a car crash and a broken ankle will get you somewhere completely different to just 18 months and no bloody car crash; you'll feel it).

These friends of mine, they're not faint-hearted people. They've been around a while. We've gone through fashion trends, heartbreaks, dance battles, tragedy, birthdays, deathdays, highlights and lowlights, betrayal, survival, picnics, alcohol-fuelled love affairs etc. Just a lot, okay? But my walking in all those years was not what it is now.

We used to walk the river some days. We'd go all the way from the city across the bridge to South Bank and onto Boundary Street to go to the book store or the pub. We'd walk blocks and blocks of busy Brisbane streets, no worries. We'd walk from my house to the park and back to my house again. We'd go on the back streets to my favourite Vietnamese place, up the steepest incline in the suburb, and, tipsy after dinner or a gig, walk back the way we came. After all my childhood operations and consistent physical therapy and exercise, I'd fall a lot less. And, I'd fall mostly at home and never in front of people, unless I were drunk.

My stride was sure, and I was incredibly confident in my own abilities. And then the car crash. So, a few nights ago, in shoes that didn't feel that great but were incredibly sensible, and in the midst of a semi-cold Brisbane night, we walked along Boundary Street in the dark, with only streetlights and shoplights to guide the way. My steps painfully slow, my voice unsure, and my (well-cursed) thoughts in a pattern of self-recognition, self-hatred, and concentration. I haven't experienced that level of slowness in front of acquaintances in years, and it was the first time, ever, that I'd walked the main street of West End in such a state.

It brings to mind a level of loathing that would probably be hard to fathom for the average person. Indeed, it is hard to articulate (and very rarely acknowledged or understood by those around me when I talk about it openly--why, I don't know). My friends, God bless, are very patient and generous with their time, their support. But, only having met in adulthood, they've never really seen me struggle like this.

-

Get a taxi home or whatever

On the way back home from the evening, I was on the threshold of panic. What was wrong with me? Why was I so upset, embarrassed? The worry of walking, the literal worry, creates in me an anxiety and fear that is easier to conquer when I can have verbal reassurances form others that I'm doing well, that I'm not going to fall, and that they will be there to (literally, physically) help me.

Some months ago, when I was still using a wheelchair to mobilise, I had a lady, a near-stranger, tell me I was brave and sooo good to directly tell people what I needed (because, she said, she could never do that). We were at pottery, and I had asked a fellow student, Jan, if I could borrow her tools, and if she could bring me a mug of water. Everyone at pottery who knew me was explicit in their offers of assistance, but I was new to this group and the stranger (by way of being a stranger) didn't know me at all. I replied to the stranger, explaining that it was neither brave nor, as she put it, an indication of my confidence and 'goodness.' As if asking for things that you need--basic, essential needs--is a skill to be worked on. For me, it is a necessity of life.

When I was a child, my needs were unique in that they were the needs of a child with disability. Meaning that the average adult who hadn't come across a disabled kid had no idea what I needed or wanted. They had no idea why I was crying or if I were in pain. I learned to doggedly request things that I needed. I learned to ask 'why' a lot. I learned to speak loudly and often, because if I didn't, most adults would forget that I was slower, prone to falling, at greater risk of drowning. Some adults (and I won't name the ones I remember, because let's face it, it wasn't some adults; it was most adults) decided that I was asking for things just to be difficult, contrary, or selfishly divert attention away from other, less troublesome children. They actively denied me assistance, not to be cruel, but, as was the way for so many children, to teach me a lesson.

What did they teach me? I'm sure it was many things--too many to satisfy you at present. But, back to this lady at pottery. No, asking for things is not a luxury, I told her. She said she admired my outlook and wished that she could do the same. I didn't tell her that this approach of mine came only after ages of trying other things that failed, at the hand of a great and miserable mystery. That adults, teachers, relatives, and others (much older and stronger than me) went to great and ignorant lengths to reprimand me and publicly humiliate me so that I would learn the lesson.

I ask for things so directly because I need them, simple as that. After years of repeating myself, of being confused, being denied, and feeling ashamed of myself for needing extra things that non-disabled people don't necessarily see or understand, I have a habit of stubbornly ignoring the whitehot shame, guilt and grief I feel at having to ask my closest friends and loved ones for physical assistance. Now, people might tell me not to feel that way anymore, that they 'get me' or that I'm okay now and I'm allowed to have needs. Often they say they could never tell that I was having such a hard time navigating this endlessly inaccessible community (yay, narrow unkempt pathways).

Not enough love is given to the observant people who see that I need help, and do the task without drawing much attention to it. I'd much prefer to do things for myself, just so we're clear. But, when required (which is more often these days), I ask for what I need. Most of the time, it's something little that might seem inconsequential to you. The most obvious one is Can we please slow down? when we are walking together, or Can I hold your arm? when walking on uneven pathways, especially at night.

You might find this jarring and awkward at first. But, please don't. It's not special. It's part of life.

*electronic speakers! buried among plants! what have we come to? what about the plants' own language?

^whoever says they want to go back to being a child probably didn't experience much emotional turmoil when they were little (disclaimer: that's just a guess; i'm not the authority on other people or their life experiences)

[southernsolarpunk]

Gardening goals for 2025!

Now that I’ve been in our new house for a year (well, it’ll be a year in February) I’ve figured out all the little microclimates of my yard and what will do best where! I’ve mentally divided up my yard into zones based on their microclimates.

Zone 1 (front yard)

This is the hottest part of the yard! In the front I plan to do a prairie style garden, with a couple of smaller trees and some shrubs to help keep the sun off the house, hopefully this will lower energy usage when it comes to AC in the summer. This will also muffle road noise, because we’re right up against the road and we get a lot of 18-wheelers on our road.

Zone 2 (left side of the yard)

I’ll use this as a transition area, continuing the prairie style garden but add a few more fruit & flowering trees/shrubs. I need trees/shrubs here because in my backyard I have seen lightning bugs and I want to shield their habitat from any light coming from the road, because any light disturbance can disrupt mating rituals. But I also get a lot of sun in this area too, and I need to again protect the house from the sun and also put species that like full sun. There’s a gate on our fence that opens into the neighbors yard and so if I get a lot of fruit it’ll be easy to bring her some!

Zone 3 (right side of the yard)

The property next to us is unused woodland, so this area doesn’t get a lot of sun and it stays pretty moist. This is where I put my pineapple guavas and I want to add some more shade loving plants. Definitely want to put some rhododendrons here. (I had one, but my brother in law beheaded it when he offered to come and cut the grass in the yard over the summer 😔)

Zone 4 (mid back yard)

This is the unwooded part of the back yard. I’ve put a couple of raised garden beds for my annual fruits and veggies, and I plan to eventually have 4 garden beds, and an outdoor lounge area. (Hoping to find an outdoor dining set at a thrift store, I’ve seen a couple at habitat for humanity. If my stepdad ends up getting a new set, I’ll ask for his old one)

This is where I’ve started planning some paths and in-ground garden beds, and this is where the yard will transition into a woodland/food forest garden. The backyard gets just about as hot as the front, and while a lot of plants in the summer enjoy the heat they don’t enjoy that much heat. I also want a moon gate for my purple passionflower vines that grow here.

Further to the back where we have more trees is the hole that I plan to put a wildlife pond, and where I see the most lightning bugs. I plan to just use the clay method to seal it (no plastic!) and even if it just becomes an ephemeral pond that’s still great for wildlife. I’ll add some native grasses to help the lightning bugs (they use grass to perch on during mating season) this is another moist area of the yard (which explains the lightning bugs, they like moisture during larval stages) so I’m hoping for some frogs & toads in the future.

Zone 5 (very back of the back yard)

(Nearly) Fully wooded, just not too overly dense in most areas. I have to get rid of some Chinese privet, Chinese honeysuckle, and Bradford pears that have germinated but it’s mostly natives. I’m going to thin the thicker areas and plant some native plants for wildlife and some nut trees. It’s far enough from the house that any large fruit trees will go back here. (Hurricanes are no joke, especially after Helene I want to be really cautious of keeping small trees near the house and large ones as far away as possible) this is the area that the rattlesnake incident happened! The paths from the mid-backyard will continue back here, and this is where I can put more shade-loving/tolerant native wildflowers. (Like our native iris, love her)

So the goals?

-get some native grass seed (big bluestem, little bluestem, purple love grass. Pink muhly grass, etc. I’ll take any suggestions from my fellow southerners)

-thin overcrowded trees

-use those logs ^ to line the paths (I get paths, and insects get homes, win/win!)

-get some more wildflower seeds! I’ve collected the more common ones, now I need to figure out some of the forgotten species that local wildlife might need

-get some baby trees. I posted before that I get a lot from Etsy, and that will continue. I tend to find native species fairly cheap on there. I also need to keep a look out for any deals going on at gardening centers.

-clear out invasives. The invasive privet is enemy #1 and it’s on sight cause they grow fast

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hiiii!!! This is the first time I’m requesting so I hope I’m doing this right. If possible could you do a head cannon with S/o reader who sucks at cooking but tries to cook for the boys and excitedly gives them her very….. questionable food. With Leona, Malleus,Vil, Jack and Azul please. Thank you so much💕💕

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Surely the taste will be an improvement over the presentation, Malleus tells himself. He has had Lilia’s cooking many times over and managed to survive those near-death experiences—so this couldn’t possibly be as bad. These are the mantras he repeats in his mind to calm himself as he brings a forkful to his lips,

Malleus is at such a loss for words, he doesn’t quite know how to react—but one look at your eager face, and he knows if may crush you to be told the truth so brazenly. And so, he dons a mischievous smile and adopts a plot on the spot to pull the wool over your eyes.

The trick to being a great magician is knowing how to best utilize one’s abilities. In Malleus’s case, a simple teleportation spell creates the illusion of chewing and swallowing every last morsel of food you pile onto his plate. As soon as it disappears from your sight past his lips, poof—it’s gone likely reappearing in Leona’s lunch.

“It has an interesting flavor. Certainly unique, unlike anything I have ever had, even the dishes provided by my royal chef,” he declares with a croon, spooning another mouthful—and, naturally, magicking it away. Malleus is tactful with his wording, careful to not offend, but also offers his wisdom. “Fufu. With more practice and study, you have the capacity to improve even more.”

Was it wrong of him to trick you? Maybe. But did he spare your feelings? Definitely. You’ll continue on in blissful ignorance, your smile preserved thanks to Malleus’s clemency. And, with any luck, perhaps you’ll be able to hone your culinary skills over time, with Malleus there to push you in the right direction.

Leona outright rejects your food, and he is not graceful about it. It’s clear from the way he turns up his nose and scowls that he has no intention of even trying a bite, or of sparing your precious feelings. (And if you include vegetables in the dish? Well, then he’ll just catapult himself several yards away.)

“You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way I’m eating that,” Leona growls, inching away from the plate. “Despite how I may look, I’m a delicate prince with an even more delicate stomach,” he tells you—although his sarcastic, mocking tone doesn’t do him any favors. “Eating food that’s economy class is beneath me.”

Following his harsh rebuttal, he realizes that he’s still hasn’t had anything to eat. In a bout of cranky hangriness (that’s hungry and angry), Leona drags you with him to the NRC cafeteria. There, he tears through a crowd of mon students and returns (looking quite disheveled) with a coveted premium menchi-katsu sandwich in hand.

You sit in the shade of the courtyard’s apple tree as Leona tears his prize up and hands you half. He looks smug about it, as though you should be thanking him, the great and powerful predator, for his kindness and generosity. (If you don’t immediately accept the sandwich, Leona will just stuff it in your mouth himself and gruffly instruct you to “shut up and eat”.)

He reclines against the tree trunk with his own half of the sandwich. Leona tosses you an irritable look before muttering, “Oi. From now on, don’t bother cooking. It’s pointless to even try. Just sit back and let me do it. I’ll be the one to take cafe of you, got it?”

One look at your dish, and Vil gingerly pushes it away with the shake of his head. He’s not one to hold back when it comes to critique, so his comments, while fair, are also brutal and brimming with tough love.

“Stop, stop. I appreciate your efforts, but... efforts alone can only get you so far. I can tell at just a glance that you’ve yet to master the fundamentals.” Vil indicates various points on the platter. “Just how do you think you can pull off a dish this complex if you lack a solid foundation to build off of? You must begin with the basics first!”

It quickly becomes evident to him that you have no clue where to start. Fortunately for you, Vil’s willing to tie up his hair and guide you through some simple things, from kitchen safety to common cooking and cutting techniques. His focus is, of course, on simple, quick, and healthy recipes which suit his busy, on-the-go lifestyle (and are so foolproof that even you can’t mess them up).

Ever the perfectionist, Vil’s not going to let you quit midway through! He’ll give you skill drills and make you practice over and over until you’re entirely comfortable and confident with handling a knife, playing with fire, and seasoning. It’s partly for his own safety (and for the safety of anyone else you want to serve food to), but he also genuinely wants to see you grow and improve yourself.

He wears the most proud smile on his face when you really nail a test or make a considerable improvement. To Vil, it’s like watching the pieces of a puzzle slowly fall into place, finally making a coherent and beautiful image that is you at your full potential. He’s sure that, no matter what you make for him next, it will be something worth a standing ovation.

Every single one of his senses is screaming at him to not to eat your food. Taking a single whiff tells him that the dish is foul, something rotten, despite your best efforts to polish it up. Heck, the fur on his tail stands on end from just looking at it.

Jack brushes away his apprehension and pats down his fur. He refuses to back down from this! He won’t be defeated by food, especially since he knows you out your heart and soul into preparing this for him! Jack vows that he won’t let it go to waste!

He has to hype himself up like he’s doing warm-ups for an important track-meet! Deep breaths, stretches, jogging in place, even mumbling a pep talk to himself under his breath! Staring down at the (potentially) deadly dish only rips open a fresh can of fear in Jack, and only exercise can provide a rush of adrenaline strong enough to fight it off.

Jack tries to conceal the questionable taste and texture of your cooking by wolfing it down as fast as he can. The sooner it is down his throat and into his belly, the less of an opportunity his taste buds will have to fully process it all... right? (Well, that’s the logic Jack is running with.)

When the deed is done, Jack raises a fist in the air almost in slow motion, as though he is a champion proclaiming victory over a powerful adversary. He gives you a dazed grin, his head swimming from the sensory stimulation. “I... I did it. Are you proud of me? I—” aaaand he careens over, his exhausted, heavy body leaning against yours. “... Looks like I was’t as strong as I thought I was. S-Sorry. I’ll have to borrow you for a while...”

Azul understands the pain of putting your time, energy, and resources into making something new—so he wouldn’t want to waste them by rejecting your kind offer of free food. He decides to sample at least one bite out of pure courtesy... and he instantly regrets it.

To Azul’s credit, he hides his repulsion well enough. He covers his disgust by coughing and pretending that the food went down the wrong pipe, then washes out the taste with a considerable gulp of water (he drains almost the entire cup in a few gulps).

Azul has a way of twisting words to persuade others to act in his favor, and now is no different. He puts that silver tongue of his to use and manages to sweet talk you out of letting him off the hook for the rest of the meal! But what will you eat? you wonder—and with a smirk, Azul seats you where he once was.

Shedding his blazer and rolling his sleeves up, he enters the kitchen himself with your plate of food in hand. Not too long after, he exits with that same dish, modified and dressed up to look like a fancy menu item. Azul pulls up a chair across from you and gives you a smile so charming that it makes you forget that you had intended to cook for him in the first place.

“Let me be the one to treat you today,” he insists, offering a spoonful or a forkful. “and if you enjoy it, I can demonstrate exactly how I made this for you. In fact, consider my tutoring services at your disposal. No, no, please—it’s no trouble at all, really. Food is something that is simply better experienced when it is shared with someone you love.”