#I replanted her and this is the first time I’ve seen her flower!

[sometimesanalice]

[shirakumos-sandwich-shop]

❄️Arranged Marriage ❄️

SCARAMOCHE X FEM READER X TARTAGLIA

Part 1.

You caressed the delicate petals of the newly bloomed silk flower. It was much too cold in snezhnaya for such a plant to exist but with the gentle coaks of your dendro vision all the buds on the exquisite bush unfurled their petals. The warm sweet scent from the flowers contrasted dramatically with the flurries of snow you could see outside of the humid greenhouse. This is where you were happiest, in the small glass building behind your parents’ mansion. Here you could be alone to study your beloved plants as much as you wished. You collected the seeds from the silk flower for replanting. The door behind you creaked open letting in a burst of cold.

“For goodness sake close the door, it will damage the plants!” You spun around to confront the maid that had entered. The girl jumped to close the door behind her.

“I’m sorry for yelling, just please be careful. I’m working on a new specimen.”

“It’s alright Miss Y/n, I’ll be more careful next time.” She stepped forward. “Miss, your parents wish to speak with you about an important matter. They said for you to come right away.”

“Whatever it is, they can wait till I’ve finished collecting these seeds.” You returned to your meticulous work.

“They said right away Miss y/n.” The maid said urgently.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” You tucked the last of the seeds safely away in a drawer and pulled on your warm fur lined coat. You followed your maid out and carefully closed the greenhouse door behind you. Trudging through the snow to the large house.

You found your parents quietly discussing some important matter in your father’s study. As you entered the room they stopped talking and looked at you.

“Y/n, I told you to come quickly, yet here we are waiting around for you.” Your mother said forcefully.

“It’s alright y/n,” your father interrupted. “Have a seat.”

“What’s this about?” You asked while sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

“Should you begin or should I?” Your father asked your mother.

“You tell her, she listens to you, not me.” Your mother said grumpily.

“Well, your mother,”

“And your father.” Your mother interrupted.

“Yes, and I.” Your father spoke patiently. “We have decided it’s time for you to get married.”

Silence deadened the room as you stared at them in shock.

“….what?” Is all you could say. You had expected something like this to happen at some point but it was still a surprise.

“Yes y/n, it’s time for you to finally do something for this family. I will not allow you to fritter away your days like you have been.” Your mother chided.

“I’ve been studying! Not frittering away anything!” You raised your voice.

“Don’t speak to me like that! It’s all planned, we have a suitable young man already chosen.”

“I don’t even get to decide who it is?” You sputtered, standing up out of the chair.

“Y/n,” your father broke in tiredly. “Sit down.” You did as he asked. “I do think this is the best thing for you. I wouldn’t let it happen if I didn’t think so.”

Hot tears were threatening to burn your eyes now.

“If it makes you feel better he has not completely given his answer yet. He has his own conditions.”

“What are they? You're supposed to give him loads of money or something?”

“No,” your father chuckled. “Nothing like that. He wants to meet you, but anonymously. Tomorrow there is a celebration being held in honor of the Tsaritsa. He asked for you to come so he can meet you.”

“I won’t know who he is? Is that it?” You asked.

“Exactly.”

“How cliche…” you sighed.

“After he has met you, he will give us his final answer.”

“You better be on your best behavior tomorrow.” Your mother scolded you like you had already set the table clothes at the celebration on fire.

There was no escaping it, once your mother had her mind made up she wouldn’t stop until you gave in.

“Fine…” you got up and left the room.

———

Your mother had micromanaged your whole day leading up to the celebration. Your hair had been arranged, taken down, and rearranged so many times your head was aching. Yet she was never satisfied. You utterly rejected the frilly pink monstrosity that was the dress she had prepared. Once you threatened to vomit on the dress you finally had your way. You chose from your extensive closet a long gray dress with embroidered lavender flowers. Your dendro vision hung on your back. Night was beginning to fall and your mother was rushing you out the door.

The party reminded you of a ball out of a fairytale. You would have enjoyed the visual splendor if not for the anxiety growing in your gut. Your parents made their way through the crowds chatting and greeting random equantances. You headed off by yourself to find an empty table to sit at.

“Y/n!” A cheery voice said behind you. You turned to see your childhood friend Childe running up to you. “Fancy meeting you here?” He flirted.

“Oh shut up Tartaglia.” You nudged his side and he chuckled. He held out his hand to you.

“Well?” He said.

“What?”

“Aren’t we dancing?” He questioned.

“Ugh fine.” You rolled your eyes. As soon as you took his offered hand he whisked you onto the dance floor into an energetic waltz. Is the waltz supposed to be energetic?

He occupied your time with friendly chatting. You slowly became more comfortable with the whole situation, he always had that effect on you.

Could he be the one my parents were talking about?

Doubtful, why would he have needed to meet me first then. But… maybe, it could be. You dared to hope it was. The thought of marrying him was oddly comforting.

“Whatcha thinking about?” He asked curiously.

“Oh uh… nothing.” Your cheeks blushed at the thoughts you were just having.

“You were thinking about me huh?” He pinched your cheek teasingly.

“No! Shut up!” You huffed. “Just a lot on my mind is all.”

Should I tell him about the marriage?

You decided against it. It wasn’t even official yet.

“Can I sit down? I’m pretty tired out now.” You told him.

“Sure, y/n.” He led you to an empty seat next to the dance floor. Immediately someone who looked vaguely important started talking to him. He was a harbinger after all, many things occupied his time now.

“Y/n,” Tartaglia caught your attention. “I need to take care of something. I’ll be back okay?”

“Okay, see you soon.” You gave him a smile and you noticed a dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks. He spun around and left you alone once more.

Time passed slowly. You watched the people dancing and sipped on a cup of Monstat’s dandelion wine. Several men came up to you in this time and asked for a dance. You declined them all. If one of them was your potential fiancé you hoped he had been turned off for good. The touch of a hand lifting your vision from your back startled you and you wiped around. A man with dark purple hair and startling violet eyes raised an eyebrow at you.

“A dendro vision.” He said simply, running his finger over the green glassy surface of your vision. “Very unusual.”

“Yes? what about it?” You snapped. “Would you give it back please.” You held out your hand, you were almost surprised when he placed it into your palm.

“Not many people have those. I’ve only seen one, maybe two.” The unknown male said.

“So what?” You glared at him.

He smirked at your hostility. You found him oddly familiar, you knew you had seen him before but couldn’t place him. He walked over and sat next to you.

“Who are you?” He questioned.

“Why do you want to know?” You folded your arms.

“Because I’m interested.”

“In what? Me or my vision?”

“Both.” He said decidedly. He leaned back in his chair and unbuttoned his suit jacket. His questioning stare bore into you.

“Well?” He said.

“Y/n L/n.” You looked away quickly. In doing so you missed the sudden surprised expression on his face.

“I’m Scaramoche.” He said.

The realization of who you were sitting next to dawned on you.

“6th of the Fatui Harbingers?” You finished for him.

“You know who I am then?”

“Only by reputation.” You stated.

He got up from his chair and stood in front of you. You tried to avoid his piercing gaze but to no avail. He held out his hand to you.

“Coming?” He said.

“What?”

“To dance? I’m not asking twice.”

~ IDK IF I WILL POST THE OTHER PARTS TO THIS OR NOT, IF YOU LIKE IT AND WANT MORE LET ME KNOW~

[earlgreydream]

the garden.

| 1940s!bucky barnes x reader | fluff | mild angst |

You walked home from work, seeing your new neighbor, Bucky Barnes, leaning against the wall of his house. His arrogant smirk appeared as you walked up the path to your door, scrunching your nose at the sight of him. 

James Buchanan Barnes was irritating. The first day he’d moved in, he and his friends were loud until the early hours of the morning, drunkenly shouting along with his record player. Then, his drunk friends had walked through your garden, trampling half of your flowers and some vegetables. And he was always outside with his stupid smirk, thinking his pretty face was enough to win you over. 

Bucky was also gorgeous, and the worst part was, he knew it. You’d seen him in town flirting with girls in the market, and everywhere he went. Even your friends all fought for his attention. When they’d come over, you’d sit outside on your porch and they would all wave to him and giggle. He greeted them, chattering with the blushing and giggling girls who fell at his feet. You always rolled your eyes and ignored him, unamused.

Bucky was fascinated by you, the only girl to never fall for his charm. He was charismatic and had every girl at his fingertips that he had ever wanted. He knew that the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, and you despised his smoking habit. However, he had made it his goal to win you back over, but you had proven to be stubborn. You were a challenge, and Bucky was determined.

“Hey doll.” He greeted you as you stepped up onto your porch.

“It’s Y/N.” You scowled at him, and he said your name, winking at you.

He checked you out, admiring you in your high waisted pants and button down. You shook your head at him, going inside your house, closing the door. You put your grocery bag down and started to make dinner, when you saw Bucky on your porch. You groaned and opened your window, looking at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“My stove is out of gas. Could you put me up for dinner?” He gave you a boyish grin, rocking on his heels.

“Why would I do that?”

“To be neighborly,” he suggested.

“C’mon. Because I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow?” Bucky tried again.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Y/N, the stores are closed, it’s late.”

“Fine. Get in here.” You gave in, shaking your head and shutting the window. He waltzed through the front door, looking too pleased with himself.

“Plus, I brought a gift!” He held up a bottle of rosé.

“So you can get drunk and ruin my flowers again?”

“I apologized for that. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven.” You said, not convincing him or yourself. 

“Where’re your glasses?” He asked, and you pulled a cabinet open, stirring your pot of pasta. He pulled down two glasses and filled them.

“Maybe I don’t drink.”

“You do, this is your favorite wine. I’ve seen you drinking it on the porch swing at least twice.” Bucky called you out.

“Oh, so you stalk me?” You accused. 

“No, you just sit outside all the time.” 

He lifted the glass to his lips, smiling behind the rim. You drank from your own, needing it in order to deal with him. You noticed his dog tags, resting against his skin with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He caught you staring, but he held eye contact, wanting to make you blush. 

“You fight in the war?” You asked, and he shook his head.

“I will. I haven’t been deployed yet. Me and my friend Steve recruit here, but we’ll go with the next team.”

“Where will you go?”

“Germany, maybe. Or Poland.” 

You hummed, thinking that Bucky didn’t seem like the military type. You supposed it was his duty though, and he didn’t want to be labeled as a draft dodger. You strained the noodles and mixed them with the sauce, serving him a plate. Bucky thanked you, taking a seat at your tablecloth. 

“Hey, get down, Pepper.” You scolded your cat that jumped onto his lap. You apologized and he smiled, petting her head.

“She has no manners. Push her off,” 

“She’s fine. I don’t mind.” He smiled, and your cat jumped onto the floor, prowling for dropped food. You ate quietly, ignoring his silver gaze. 

“How long have you lived here?” He made conversation.

“Since I left my parents’ house when I was sixteen,” 

“That’s awful young. Why?”

You didn’t answer, pouring yourself another glass of wine, and he tilted his glass for more. You emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass, earning a thank-you. 

“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”

“I’m absolutely buying you dinner. We’ll go out, to Brooklyn.” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Is there any way to get out of it?” You asked.

“I’m afraid not.” 

“You’re an amazing cook.” Bucky complimented, standing and taking your empty plates before you could.

“Thanks. I got that-”

“No, you cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” He turned on your sink and began to wash everything, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You watched him, biting back a small smile. 

“I’ll just be getting out of your hair. Have a goodnight, doll.” 

You rolled your eyes, closing the door after him. You picked up your cat and held her, watching him walk across the lawn. He waved at you when he saw you watching through the window, and you shut the curtains.

You came home the next day, tired and annoyed from work. You were in a bad mood, and you just wanted to relax.

“James?” You stopped when you saw him kneeling in your yard.

“Y/N, you’re home.”

“Why the hell are you in my yard?!” You demanded, opening the gate. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I was replanting your flowers.” He said, kneeling in your garden. 

Your eyebrows shot up as you saw the rows of freshly planted daffodils, and you walked over to him slowly. 

“Thank you.” You were impressed, and he leaned back on his heels. 

“I’m... I can’t take you out like this. Let me change, then we can go for our dinner?” He smiled down at himself, dirt and grass staining his pants.

You nodded, hiding your smile behind your hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You shook your head, watching him go toward his house. You went inside and quickly changed your own clothes, into wide white pants and a yellow button down. You fixed your makeup, and went to meet him on the porch. You bit your lip, smiling as you opened the door to find him standing with a bouquet of daisies.  

“Bucky...” You couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“I thought you’d like them. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“It’s working.” You whispered before putting the flowers in a vase. You walked to his car with him, and he opened the door for you, being so charming.

Bucky lived to see your smile. When he finally earned it with the flowers, warmth erupted in his chest and spread through him. He had truly felt bad about your garden and spent the whole afternoon replanting it for you. He drove you into the city, music playing softly on the radio.

“Where are we going?”

“New York pizza, Y/N,” Bucky looked proud of himself.

“That sounds amazing.” You confessed, your stomach growling. You’d missed lunch at work, and you were starving. 

“Pizza is my favorite.” 

“Mine too!” Bucky announced, and you giggled at that. He turned and smiled at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than it usually did. 

You arrived at the pizza place, following Bucky inside. He put his hand on your lower back, and you felt the butterflies again. 

“What would you like?” 

“Margherita pizza. I’m a classic girl.”

“Perfect.” He ordered for the two of you, leaning against the bartop while you waited.

“We’ll take it to go.”

“We’re not eating here?” You asked, confused, and he shook his head. 

“Got a better idea.” Bucky winked at you, taking the pizza box once it was done. 

“Can you take this for a second, doll?” He asked, handing it to you as we stood outside. You took it from him, and he leaned into his car, pulling out a blanket before taking the pizza. He nodded for you to follow, and you walked a few blocks down to a park, where he spread the blanket. You were beaming as you sat down beside him, the glow of the street lights and the stars making him look impossibly more attractive. 

“You’ve outdone yourself.” You smiled, biting into a slice of pizza. He looked pleased, and the two of you found yourselves talking until the streets were silent. You were sitting in front of him, when he leaned forward, kissing you. You kissed him back, threading your fingers into his dark hair, letting him move you onto his lap. His tongue pushed past your lips, your mouths moving in sync. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Bucky asked, surprising you. You were blushing furiously, and you almost said no, but the feeling his words gave you, made your heart race.

“Yes, James.” You pecked his lips and he grinned into the kiss.

That was how you and Bucky ended up spending most of your time together. He helped you tend to your garden, and you taught him about the plants. You were a botanist with a green thumb, and he was in awe of your tender care of your plants. Every night in the following weeks was spent with the two of you gently rocking on your porch swing, drinking coffee, listening to records, or making out. Either that, or you were listening to him read on the couch or in your bed. 

You and Bucky had been together for almost two months, when he came home late from work one evening when it was nearing October. You were waiting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, watching for his car to roll in. 

“James!” You called, and he walked up to you. 

“Hey, doll.” He leaned down and kissed you sweetly. You looked up at him, and your gaze meeting with sad eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Worry filled you, and he sat down next to you. 

“I’m getting deployed. We leave in two weeks.” He breathed, and your heart fell into pieces. 

“I’ll wait for you.” You said finally.

“Y/N, you could be waiting for years, or I may not make it back.”

“Don’t say that!” You cried. 

“It’s the truth--” 

Tears started rolling down your cheeks, and you shook your head. You climbed onto his lap and clung to him, gripping his shirt and crying into his shoulder. He rubbed your back and held you on the porch. 

“I want to get married, before you go.” You said, and he turned your face to look at him.

“Doll, you can’t mean that.”

“No, I do. Marry me. Marry me and promise you’ll come back for me.” You touched his face, and he brushed tears from your cheeks. 

“I will marry you, and I will fight every single day to come home to you. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you.”

For months, you and your cat waited on your porch, the cool metal dog tags resting against your sternum. A box of his letters sat on your bedside table, telling you how much he missed you, and loved you, and he wanted to come home to his beautiful wife. All of your friends thought you were mad for marrying a man you’d only dated a few months, the week before he went off to war. A star hung in your window, and every day was spent waiting. Your garden flourished, pumpkins growing as autumn approached. The nights you spent outside began to grow colder, and you waited.

When you saw him, it was like fireworks exploded inside of you. He was tired, he looked wartorn, and he was definitely more muscular. You screamed, tossing your blanket off of you, and running. You jumped over the fence, making him laugh. You threw your arms around him, and he caught you as you jumped into his arms. He held you tightly and spun you around, planting a deep kiss to your lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” 

You were crying as Bucky held you, overwhelmed with joy to see him. You didn’t sleep that night, or the next few. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Little Things in Life - 1

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark!Steveand explicit. 18+ only.

Series Summary: Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left.

Note: I’m still working on Syster and BJB and all my other WIPs. This was supposed to be a one shot but I got about 22 pages out and realised that we weren’t even close to an end. Anyways, hope you enjoy a subtle Steve. Slow burn. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You liked to do your gardening early. Even on the weekends. You let your husband Logan sleep in; your daughter, Kayla too. You basked in the morning balm as you rooted around for stray roots and watered the leaves which looked a little too brittle in the dew. The birds sang as the neighbourhood still slept. It was a rare moment of your own.

Well, almost all yours. 

You turned at the steady beat of sneakers on the pavement. You stood and dusted off your gloves. Steve, your neighbour from just across the street, stopped as he reached the end of your walk. He smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” You said. “You’ve got a newborn keeping you up all night and here you are, running the entire neighbourhood like it’s nothing.”

He laughed. “Never got much sleep to begin with,” He said. “You know, if you ever get bored of the dirt and grubs, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You know I couldn’t keep up with you, Cap,” You grinned. 

“Not anymore,” He said. “I hung that shield up.”

“Oh yes, Logan told me you let him toss it around.” 

“Well, he tried,” Steve said. “I… you know, I’m happy I ran into you. Me and Sharon, we’re having this thing next weekend. A party for all us restless parents. No kids.”

“Yeah, she was saying the other day.” You replied. “I’m sure I could get the sitter and Logan never says no to a beer or two.”

“Maybe we could hit the felt again. It’s been a while.” He ventured. “We had to move the table but I got the cues all ready.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You said. “So she let you keep it.”

“It’s in the garage now but it’s still in one piece,” He preened. “You should pop by some time. After dinner, I like to try a few trick shots.”

“I’ll try,” You said. “I’m usually the one cleaning up dinner and Kayla. But, maybe we could do doubles sometime. Nap time, maybe.”

“I might be able to convince Sharon,” He rubbed his neck and glanced over at his house. “Speaking of, I should go check in on her. Got a serious diaper run to go on this morning.”

“See ya,” You said. “Say hi to Sharon for me.”

“See ya,” He turned and jogged across the street. 

He stopped at his front door and turned back to look at you as you collected your watering can and basket of tools. He waved and you waved back. A coffee would be nice before you roused the little monster. Saturday was pancake day and she rarely forgot it.

🏠

That day you kept thinking about your neighbours. Steve and Sharon used to be your weekend buddies. You’d stop by after you put Kayla down for the night and have a few drinks. That was until Sharon had gotten pregnant and they’d both descended into full blown panic mode. Baby this, baby that! It was a peculiar type of excitement which had them both beaming and baffled.

You’d seen Sharon for lunch every now and then and at her shower. She was so swept up in it all that she wasn’t as social as before. You were glad to hear she was throwing one of her parties. She was finding her balance again.

As for Steve, you only really saw him in passing. Doing yard work or random chores around the house. He was always busy it seemed. Well, that was life.

You went about your usual Saturday routine; pancake breakfast, dishes, play time with Kayla, lunch, nap time, a walk to the park, dinner… The days only varied when you worked and most times, you did so from home. You were lucky enough to spend much of your time with your daughter, though you wished you could say the same of Logan.

He worked hard, you couldn’t fault him that. Most days, he stayed late. By the time he got home, he was so wrapped up in it that it was all he could talk about. But he was a good dad when he was there. He loved Kayla and he treated you well enough.

Sunday was lazy. The afternoon was disappointing as Logan spent much of it on the phone with his boss. You took Kayla out to the garden so she couldn’t disturb the call. She helped, or tried to help you transfer some flowers from your garden into a pot. Proud of your creation, you took her across the street and knocked on the door.

Steve answered it to your surprise. Sharon was usually quick to the punch. You greeted him with a smile. 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb, I just thought… well Sharon said she liked the flowers so we brought you some.” You held out the pot.

“You can put them in your garden,” Kayla said cheerily.

“I need to make a garden first,” He grinned at her and took the pot. “Thank you. I’m sure Sharon will find a place for them. She’s just sleeping with the baby right now.”

“I get it,” You said. “We were a bit restless and just wanted to say hi. She wanted to give them to Ethel but you know she has terrible allergies.”

“I appreciate the thought,” He leaned down to talk to Kayla, “You’re getting big, kiddo. How old are you now?”

“Four,” She chimed. “Mommy says I’m old enough to go to school.”

“I would think you are,” He replied as he stood straight. “I’ll let Sharon know you came by. Oh, and… the pool table is still open.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” You offered. “Logan’s taking Kayla to a Paw Patrol show.”

“Tomorrow,” He accepted. “I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“What happened to that friend of yours; James?” You wondered.

“Bucky. He’s around now and then.” Steve shrugged. “But not as much as I like. And he prefers poker.”

“Ah,” You took Kayla’s hand before she could wander away. “Well, I’ll see ya.”

“What time’s the show?” He asked before you could back away. 

“Six.” You answered.

“Then I’ll see you at six-thirty. How’s that?”

“Six-thirty it is,” You confirmed as you picked up Kayla and turned away. “Okay, you little brat, let’s go bug your father.”

🏠

You were glad Logan was getting some time with Kayla. You wished you could go with them but keeping to your new budget, two tickets were all that could be had. The upside was that you didn’t have to sit through the cartoony mascots dancing in an arena full of hyper children.

You gave Kayla a kiss on the cheek and barely sneaked a kiss on Logan’s lips before she tugged him away from you. He strapped her into her seat and gave a smile as he climbed in the front. You smiled as they left but when they were gone, you felt restless. There were only a few times you were without Kayla; at work and during your early morning gardening sessions.

You went inside and wandered around the kitchen for a few minutes. You poured yourself a glass of wine and looked at the clock. You were suddenly very grateful for Steve’s invitation. The game would keep your mind off your listlessness.

You finished your chardonnay and rinsed the glass. You stepped out the front door and found Steve’s garage door open as he ducked beneath it to wave you over. You looked down the street before you crossed and jogged up the drive. 

“Hey,” You entered the cool garage. The pool table took up much of the space not occupied by the aged motorcycle Steve had been working on for years. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, getting some practice in,” He grabbed the cue leaning against the table and another from the rack on the wall. He handed you one. “Hope you’re not too rusty.”

“You know, I’ve been playing online but it’s not quite the same,” You kidded. “What’s Sharon up to?”

“I asked her if she wanted to come out and join us,” Steve shrugged. “But she’s been on the phone with her mother all day.”

“Maybe next time,” You watched as he set up the balls in the frame.

“You want a beer or something?” He asked as he stood.

“I shouldn’t. I just had some wine. I don’t like to mix drinks… or rather, my body doesn’t.” You chuckled.

“I’m sure I’ve got some wine,” He went to the mini fridge. “Aha, pinot… grigio.” He squinted at the label as he turned around. “Sharon hasn’t touched the stuff in ages. It hasn’t been opened though.”

“Really, I shouldn’t.” You waved him off.

“Come on.”

“Is this some sort of tactic?” You teased. “To get me off my game?”

“Maybe,” He twisted open the bottle and handed it to you. “It’s open. You gotta at least have a sip.”

You tilted your head at him.

“I don’t have any glasses out here,” He grinned.

“Just a sip,” You took the bottle and drank less than a mouthful. You placed it on the metal side table against the wall and fiddled with your cue. He returned to the fridge and grabbed a tall can of beer. “Thought that stuff didn’t get to you.”

“Doesn’t, but it’s comforting,” He approached the other side of the table. “When I was… serving, the men didn’t have much to do but drink on their time off.”

“Ah,” You leaned your cue on the top of your shoe. “It’s like how tequila makes me wanna run as far as I can in the other direction.”

“I guess,” He said. “Guest’s honour. You can break.”

“Alright,” You went to the head of the table and lined up the cue ball. “Wait.” You paused as you bent over the table. “What do I get when I win?”

“If you win,” He corrected. “And, I don’t know. Twenty bucks.”

“No fun. How about… I get to try on the helmet.”

“Helmet?” He blinked.

“That old war relic you have in your den.” You said. “You know I always wanted to try it on.”

“It’s an antique now,” He said. “Rusty.”

“Like you?” You taunted.

“Like me,” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. And what about if I win?”

“Name your price,” You narrowed your eyes at the table and set up your shot.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a touch of that green thumb,” He said. “I… wanted to do something special for Sharon. Clean out the garden, replant everything that’s died.”

“That’s not really an even trade,” You mused as you hit the ball. “But it’s a bet.” You stood as the coloured balls shot in all directions. Three solids plopped into the corner pockets. “Oh, I also get a selfie in the helmet.”

🏠

You glared at the felt. Then the bottle of wine. You should have stopped at a sip but you had gotten carried away in the game. You’d also missed your last shot and set up Steve to sink the last stripes before he set his eyes on the eight ball. He called the top left pocket and you hoped he missed. Crossed your fingers around the cue.

The clack of the balls echoed in the garage and the black ball made a slow path to the pocket. It tipped over the edge and you curse. You stomped your foot and spun the cue in your hand.

“No fair,” You pouted. “You’ve been practising.”

“And… I’m sure that online pool is quite the workout.”

“Only for my finger,” You held up your index. “So… the garden?”

“Can we start this week?” He asked.

“Sure,” You smiled. “You’ll have to grab seeds or whatever. Please, anything but rose bushes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know where to begin but I’m sure I could ask someone at the greenhouse,” He mulled.

He went to the table and reached into the pockets. He pulled out a yellow ball and a red ball. He place them parallel at the other end.

“Or maybe… I don’t know, I know you’re busy but you could help me?”

“That wasn’t part of the bet,” You said. “But sure. I can do Wednesday afternoon. I hope you don’t mind if Kayla tags along.”

“Of course not,” He lined up the cue ball in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You stepped away from the table as he grabbed his cue.

“A trick I’ve been working on,” He said. “I saw it online and gave it a go. It’s fun.”

He bent over the felt and hit the ball. It hit the yellow ball which bounced off the red one and sent both of them into opposite pockets. He stood and smirked proudly.

“Your turn,” He rearranged the balls and you frowned.

“I can’t,” You argued. “I think I had too much of that wine.”

“Come on,” He said. “Just give it a try.”

You looked at your phone. It was already past eight.

“It’s not that late,” He urged.

“Fine,” You took your cue and approached the table. 

Your shot was less successful than his. The yellow ball hit the red in but came to a halt several inches from the pocket. You shrugged and stood straight.

“See.” You huffed.

“Practice,” He positioned them again. 

He came around the table as he placed the cue ball before you. He stood behind you as you relented and lined up your shot. You paused as he adjusted the end of your cue and neared. He leaned over you and helped you position the nose of the cue. He was almost flush against you, just for a moment before he backed away.

“You just gotta put some force behind it,” He said as he walked along the side of the table. 

He stepped back to see the table. You hit the white ball and shakily retreated from the felt. The yellow and red split off and the latter plopped into the pocket while the former bounced off the edge of the corner.

“Close,” He said and went to the table. He shoved his hand in the small pocket. “Night’s not over til you get it.”

[daybreak-delusion]

Chapter 8

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina.  As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems. 

Series Masterlist 

Previous Chapter

The drive back from The Wreck was as smooth as a ride in an old Volkswagen could be. It wasn’t that bad of a sight either. Through the trees, I could catch glimpses of the beach and water. I could make out little surfers trying to catch waves, fishermen trying to haul in their catches, and tourists getting sunburnt on their towels. I decided to stop at the park I saw on my way to The Wreck and eat my lunch. There were large tall trees good for climbing surrounding a playset with a couple of benches and picnic tables. I sat on a bench closer to the playset and dug in. JJ wasn’t kidding this sandwich was exactly what I needed to get over my hunger and my fires? Oh my god, I could kill for another batch. There were a couple of kids playing on the playset that looked like a lawsuit waiting to happen. They were oblivious to their danger however as they played tag around the swing set. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had as much fun as those kids were and wondered if I’d ever be that happy again. On that depressing note, I decided to leave so their mothers wouldn’t peg me as a pedophile. 

Before heading back to the Lemon House I looked up a market to get some groceries. The store didn’t have the biggest variety, but I got what I needed: pasta, fruits, vegetables, beans, almonds, rice, Skinny Pop, and other kinds of snacks. If I planned my meals correctly I should have enough for the rest of the month. I also took note of the hardware store that was next to it and decided I would come back tomorrow for paint and other supplies for touching up the house. When I got back it took a couple of trips, but I finally got all the groceries inside. I walked outside with JJ’s burger to see the golden boy throwing away a bag of weeds. 

“Hey, Golden Boy!” I yelled walking over to him. 

“Ah miss Sunshine how was The Wreck,” he replied, wiping off some sweat on his face with the bottom of his shirt giving me a view of his incredibly toned abs. I assumed he had a good body based on the look of his arms, but hot damn this boy could be a Greek god. What I would do to get his boy to let me put- 

“Hello,” JJ yelled, snapping his fingers at me, “how was The Wreck?” 

“Hm oh yeah, it was fine,” I stupidly replied, praying that he didn’t notice my ogling, “Um I got you a burger, Kie said it was your favorite.” 

“Aww Sunshine you didn’t have to do that,” he said grabbing the bag and scarfing down the burger. 

“No problem, so you get everything done?” I asked him, taking his trash. I ignored the voice in the back of my head praying that he still had more stuff to do. 

“Yeah I just finished up for the day, unless you have any other pressing matters you need me to satisfy,” he teased, giving me his heart-melting smirk. I would have been more smitten if he didn’t have a piece of lettuce in his teeth. 

“In your dreams Golden Boy,” I tried to say confidently, but it came out more like a stutter. 

“Every night Sunshine.” 

“We met yesterday dummy, remember that you still work for me so keep your dreams at bay.” 

“Whatever you say, boss lady, don’t miss me too much tomorrow,” he said as we walked over to the front of the house. 

“Trust me I’ll be able to manage,” I said as we approached a rusty, red dirt bike, “I’ll have your new schedule by Monday, you still good with helping me fix up a couple of things around the house right?” 

“Yeah, yeah sure thing, but you’ll pay me extra right?” he clarified, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yes JJ I’m true to my word, but it probably won't be as much as my Grandmother paid you. Is $15 an hour okay?” 

“Eh, I don’t know about that Sunshine. My price per hour is a little bit higher than that.” 

“Don’t play me JJ minimum wage here is like $7 be lucky I’m not giving you $10.” 

“Fine, fine can't blame me for trying,” he said climbing on to the bike, “see ya later Sunshine!” 

And just like that, he was off down the road with a cloud of dust behind him. I couldn't help but notice the sad feeling in my chest as I watched this boy drive away. God, what was wrong with me, I had met him what? Yesterday? This was ridiculous. But it wasn’t until JJ was gone when I realized how lonely I actually was. I’ve had my share of loneliness of course, but I always had someone to be there for me whether it was a teacher or the librarian or even Grandmother sometimes. But now she was gone and here I was longing for the company of a boy that almost went to juvie. Great. 

Pushing my feelings down I turned back to the house and went inside. In the kitchen, the lemons had been placed in a white bowl on the counter by a certain Golden Boy. I was then filled with energy as I remembered what task I had planned to take on today: making Grandmother’s lemonade. How hard could it be right? Apparently really fucking hard. 

First of all, it took me forever to find a knife of all things. Then I had to find a bowl or a jug or something to put the lemon juice in. Then I had to look up a YouTube video on how to juice the freakin lemons and on top of that my first try, I squirted lemon juice in my eye which was absolutely agonizing. After that it went kinda smoothly, I added water and some sugar and was finally finished. Too bad it tasted horrible. It had too much pulp in it and was so sour my eyes started watering. I had to spit out the poison I had made into the sink. Giving up I dumped the rest of the liquid and started to clean up my mess. While washing dishes I looked out the window above the sink outside to see an amazing sunset. The sky was a gorgeous orange color that took up the whole sky. It was breathtaking. Dusk was always my favorite time of the day. Everything and everyone seems to be calmer as the day winds to an end. After I finished cleaning up my failure I decided to turn in for the night, but not before making a plan for the house. 

I had planned on using the money that I had inherited from Grandmother to pay for the refurbishing of the house and to pay JJ. Now, Grandmother had mostly taken care of everything in the house, but the outside was another story. Firstly the whole house inside and out needed a good dusting. The house also needed a new coat of paint along with the garage. Speaking of the garage it needed to be cleaned out and I was even debating tearing it down and just building a new one, but I vetoed that idea. The garden in the front of the house along with the flower boxes needed to be replanted which would be easy. The back porch was nice, but I wanted to see what I could do with it. Maybe paint the porch and get some new furniture. It definitely needed some sort of fan or cooling system, but we’ll get there when we get there. I also hadn’t seen the greenhouse up close, but I could tell it needed a good wash. It would take a while, but hopefully, JJ would be a good help. Maybe he could help me in other ways too. Stop. But why? Because I barely know this guy and it’s not like I’m an expert in flirting or making boys fall for me and why am I even considering this? He’s working for me if I hooked up with him that would only complicate everything. There were also my suspicions about Kie and JJ and the last thing I wanted to become was a homewrecker. Emotions and relationships are not my cup of tea and I’m just here for the summer. Well, the summers not over yet! This is going to be a long month.

a/n: Poor Whitney so lonely, but that’ll change soon! thank you so much for reading I cannot express how excited I get when people like my chapters, it really mean a lot to me! Only one chapter today, but the next one will take a turn! Stay tuned!  

[ladylouoflothlorien]

Serendipity - Part 2

Pairing - Augledh (Orc Captain) & Héowyn (Woman of Rohan) Words - 3341 Read part 1 here For everyone who asked to be tagged in this or just really liked it when part 1 came out, I want to apologise for how long it’s taken to get part 2 out. A lot of my WIP’s have been rather neglected, so this sort of apology is going to be popping up a lot on my blog in the near future. I feel like I’ve finally got my creativity back and I’m certainly glad to see it. Anyway, without further ado, on to the fic!

That morning, the villagers awoke to discover that there had been no attack that night. Héowyn didn’t think much of it, after all, she’d seen that orc walk away from their village with her own two eyes. Why would he make the effort to come back and attack after that?

Things only began to appear strange when a whole week had passed without a single attack – not so much as a trampled flower. Although Augledh had told her not to tell anyone, he was significantly less intimidating when the memory of him was a week old. Besides, Héowyn was going crazy not being able to talk about such a strange experience. Anyway, if she only told her father, how on earth would the orc know?

The truth was, Augledh couldn’t bring himself to order an attack on a village where he now knew his soulmate lived. So he didn’t, and the village hadn’t suffered any more attacks. After the example he’d made of Gilga, none of the orcs questioned why their commander had made the seemingly arbitrary decision to change the village they were attacking. Some even thought it might be a test to see which of them, if any, would also be stupid enough to dare question him.

Another week of no attacks passed by peacefully in the village. The villagers began to wonder if the orcs had decided to finally leave them alone or if they were gearing up for one massive attack. Héowyn finally snapped. Forget the fact that she’d promised the orc not to tell anyone. What did she owe him, anyway? Her train of thoughts paused for a moment as the practical part of her brain reminded her that he easily could have killed her, and by that logic she actually owed him her life. Héowyn pushed that thought away. She was going to tell her father what had happened; she’d already decided.

Héowyn sat her father down that afternoon after they’d both finished work for the day and prepared him for what she was about to say. Then she relayed what had happened a little over two weeks before, and though she left nothing out, she spoke matter-of-factly and as calmly as she could so as not to alarm him. Even so, when Héowyn described the second, much larger orc who jumped out and beheaded the first, he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a horrified gasp. She had to spend a considerable number of minutes calming him down before she could continue. Unbeknownst to her, just as she’d been starting her story, one of their neighbours had been coming to talk to them. Gossip was one of the few well-practiced pleasures of village life. Their neighbour, upon realising that they were having some kind of serious conversation, had shamelessly positioned themselves close to the barely open window – though she kept herself hidden from the view of the two people inside. She was able to hear the whole story, though she’d had to suppress a gasp of her own at the mere mention of orcs. Who would’ve guessed that Héowyn would be so reckless over a stray warg pup?

Once it seemed that the story was over, the woman listening in carefully slipped away from Héowyn’s hut, making sure her actions were a silent as possible so she wouldn’t be discovered by the two people inside. Once she was far enough away from the hut to run without sounding suspicious, the woman ran as fast as she could to where the weekly meeting of the elders was taking place.

Augledh had not seen the woman – Héowyn – since that night. It had taken him the whole first week to get used to the fact that he had finally found his soulmate and to process all the implications that came with. The logical side of his brain refused to allow himself to see Héowyn again until he had worked through these thoughts by himself. Besides, he had a whole camp full of young orcs to train. On top of that, he wanted to get his courtship started as quickly as possible. Despite his misgivings, deep down Augledh was truly excited that he’d finally found his soulmate. He had to make her something, but he had very little free time. What free time he had, he dedicated to crafting her gift.

Augledh wasn’t sure what a human woman would most like. He settled for practicality; he decided to make her a dagger. It didn’t take much still to yield, unlike a sword, and Augledh wasn’t too proud to admit that he was making her a weapon to satisfy his own selfish need to know she has some level of protection. He hadn’t seen any weaponry on her when they’d met, just that staff. He liked to believe that if she’d had any other option of protection, she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to venture into the night alone without it. All that being said, Augledh didn’t want to rush his creation, and so many days passed him by with painfully little progress being made on said dagger.

The nosey neighbour had informed the elders of what she’d overheard and they’d thanked her for her information, though they weren’t really sure what to say. They decided that for now, the information should remain a secret, and though the woman loved to gossip, they told her to remain silent so firmly that she felt as though she had no choice but to listen. The word of the village elders was as good as law after all. Then the elders sent her away so they could discuss among themselves without her. They quickly noted that since Héowyn had met that orc, there had been no attacks on their village. Indeed, it didn’t take a genius to point that out. This was no small piece of information either, since a whole two weeks had passed peacefully for them. Those two weeks had been invaluable to the village in their progress to rebuild and replant what the orcs had destroyed.

How on earth had Héowyn come face to face with no less than three orcs and lived to tell the tale? The elders couldn’t fathom it. To them, the orcs were nothing more than the living embodiment of the evil lurking in the dark places of the world. After a little more discussion, the elders decided that, for some unknown reason, one of the orcs must’ve taken a very decided liking to Héowyn. There was nothing they could be angry at. It wasn’t as if Héowyn had betrayed them by returning the affection. In fact, it had only brought them good, since she now seemed to bring their village protection by way of the orc who fancied her. The elders decided that, overall, they were pleased with the situation. However, they decided that it would be better for the village population as a whole to remain in the dark as to the reason why they were suddenly safe from orc attacks. They had warned the gossiping woman so sternly that they had no doubt she would keep quiet. As for Héowyn, it seemed that she had no intention of making the knowledge public, since she had only told her father in the quiet of their hut and – according to their source – had sworn him to secrecy before-hand. The elders definitely felt a sense of satisfaction at knowing Héowyn’s secret without her knowing that they did and without her consent. They weren’t village elders for nothing, after all. They had the respect of the people. All titbits of information were passed by them.

Three weeks were hardly enough for Héowyn to get over what had happened that night in the field. Truthfully, although it no longer consumed her every waking thought, she still found her mind wandering back to the strange and terrifying creatures she had met whenever she found time to herself. What had happened, as well as the fact that no orcs had left so much as a footprint around their village since, was baffling to her. What was more baffling still was the fact that she actually felt a certain desire to see the orc captain again. To be sure, it was only a small wish, and she easily chalked it up to the fact that she had a natural curiosity for anything other than the mundane and ordinary life of her village, so such thoughts didn’t really bother her or cause her to question her own sanity. She was drawn from such a line of thought by a knock at the door. It was a quiet knock, cautious, but still the sound made her jump. Since the very first orc attack they’d had on their village, no one had ventured out after dark, not even in the three weeks of peace they’d had, so a knock to announce the presence of a visitor was the last thing she’d expected. Héowyn put down the tattered book she’d been struggling to read by the light of a guttering candle and smoothed out her skirt.

“Just a minute.” She was only wearing her night dress, so she needed to put a covering on to be decent for company. Whoever was waiting for her did not call out to answer her, and she supposed that they were being cautious. The orcs could be about after all, where physical safety was at stake there was no point taking chances. Héowyn pulled a thin shawl around her shoulders. If it had been daylight she would not have been fit to be seen, as the shawl was only enough to cover the positively scandalous amount of chest she’d otherwise be showing, and did nothing to hide how the thin fabric of her night-dress clung to her feminine form. However, the moonlight would do much to hide her indecency from prying human eyes.

Unfortunately for Héowyn, the eyes that awaited the sight of her were not human, and could see significantly better at night than any man of her species.  She went to the door carrying her candle in its crude holder to provide some little semblance of light, but when she opened the door she was so shocked by what she saw that she dropped it. It clattered on the floor and the candle instantly flickered out. In the short pause where all that could be heard was Héowyn’s sharp intake of breath, Augledh moved with the well trained speed of a fighter and covered the woman’s mouth with his massive palm.

“Please… do not scream.”

Héowyn slowly and shakily exhaled against his palm, and when he was certain she did not have the breath to scream he dropped his hand. The Orc captain knew little of the customs men had surrounding their social interactions, but he was pretty sure this was out of the common way. It was equally clear that the woman was waiting for him to speak first, so he did.

“I made this.” He paused, holding out a thin parcel wrapped in a brown hessian sheet. “For you.” The woman merely blinked at him. Confusion was painted on her face as clearly as could be, and the Orc had to wonder if human courting was so vastly different from the courting rituals of his own kind as to render her incapable of identifying a courting gift when she saw one. Augledh hadn’t imagined having to explain the courting rituals of his people to add to the stresses of presenting the gift in the first place, but he was a military captain, and he’d faced stickier situations than this. He rolled his shoulders back and squared them, straightening his back and summoning courage from within himself to begin a hushed explanation, when all of a sudden voiced could be heard from nearby, and the dim flickering of a carried lantern could be seen bouncing off the walls of the closest hut.

Augledh tensed, and Héowyn inhaled sharply once again.

“Will you take it?” He asked her, his tone laced with slight panic. The chance of being caught, alone and – the orcs who trained him would chastise him if they knew – without his sword in a human village was a dangerous one. Héowyn herself felt a certain level of panic, though hers was less specifically tied to personal safety but rather to her reputation within her community. She had no idea how someone would view this odd meeting if they happened to see the two together. She wanted him gone, now. Looking back to the parcel, she reasoned quickly to herself that he’d only come to deliver whatever was wrapped in the very rough fabric, and if all she needed to do to get him to leave was accept it then that’s what she’d have to do. Héowyn was about to reach out and take the parcel from his hands when she realised that whoever was out and about had come close enough for her to hear their footsteps.

In a split-second decision – and undoubtedly little real thought – Héowyn’s hands reached past the parcel to grab onto the Orc’s tunic instead and she firmly tugged him inside. Had he been expecting it, Augledh would have been able to withstand the pull with ease, but as it was his eyes merely widened as he stumbled forwards and into the woman’s hut. The movement was so sudden that he couldn’t catch himself, and his momentum carried him too far. Augledh all but barrelled into Héowyn, knocking her backwards with him falling after her. Luckily the woman fell down onto her behind, rather than her back or her head. Blinking, the orc found himself clumsily cradling his parcel with one hand whilst the other was braced against the compressed dirt floor of the hut, having shot out mid-fall to prevent his weight from crushing her. It took Héowyn even less time to realise that the orc’s mid-section was bracketed by her knees, and that he was lying between her thighs – which had become scandalously exposed as her nightdress had shifted up her legs. The door had swung half shut behind them, and Augledh went to right himself instantly, hardly noticing the position they were in, when his ears caught the footsteps himself and he stilled.

“If we move now they will hear, I am sure.” He spoke, his voice scarce more than a breath. He did not realise that human hearing was not so sharp as his, and undoubtably they could have separated if they had moved quietly enough, but he did not know this. Héowyn merely nodded mutely as her wide eyes stared at anything but his face and she tried her absolute best to ignore the warmth radiating from his – ridiculously hard and muscled, but not that she noticed, no sir – form.

The longer they remained frozen in that position, waiting for the threat of discovery to pass, the more aware Augledh became of just how suggestive position it was. The few times he had ever been between a woman’s thighs had all been for the same purpose, and it took all of his self-control to prevent his eyes from wandering. If she had not been a human woman, he would not have bothered with this, but he had heard of just how sexually repressed human women were, and he did not want to alarm her. It did not help his situation in the least that she appeared to be wearing a covering that, had it been any thinner, would have been positively see-through. Augledh felt himself stir in his britches, and was glad that there forms had not been pressed any closer, or else Héowyn would surely have felt him too.

After what felt like years, the footsteps had passed beyond the hearing of both woman and orc, and Héowyn cleared her throat tentatively.

“Perhaps… it is best if you leave before you are noticed…”

She did not wish to appear rude, or to anger him, for though he had been kind to her so far he was still an orc, and dangerous. Then again, in that moment she was more afeared of what damage his potential discovery would do to her reputation. A woman’s reputation was a beautiful yet fragile thing, like a flower. She and all the women of her village knew this, had it made known to them at a young age. Héowyn needed him to leave.

Augledh seemed to sense that he was no longer welcome, though he doubted he had truly been welcome at the start of their conversation. The orc eased himself up to stand, and had been going to offer the woman a hand to help her up, but she had already righted herself by the time he had dusted himself off. Not to be dissuaded from his original purpose, he held the wrapped parcel back out to her.

“Will you take it?” He repeated his early question with less panic now that they were mostly hidden by the partially closed door.

“I… do not understand.”

“Take it, and I will explain another time.”

Still he held out the wrapped object to her, and she reached out towards it only to hesitate once again, her hand hovering somewhere between herself and the parcel.

“A-another time?”

Augledh nodded.

“On the third day after tomorrow, go to the field where we met. There are some trees at the edge of the field, I will be waiting there.”

Héowyn hesitated still, weighing her options. She could see that she had several. First, she could refuse whatever he was trying to give her, but then she could anger him and that was ultimately what she was trying to avoid. Second, she could take the gift and simply not go to meet him, though now that it was clear he knew where she lived she did not know how effective a strategy that would be in the long-term. The third and final option, which was the option she chose to go with, was to take the gift and decide later whether or not to meet him. She had three days to deliberate, after all.

Without giving herself any longer to mull it over and potentially scare herself into inaction, Héowyn took the cloth-wrapped object out of the orc’s outstretched hand and cradled it against her chest. It was an odd shape, and she could not work out what it was from that. She supposed she would have to wait until she could unwrap it.

The woman could immediately tell that her action had pleased the orc – she supposed she should be thinking of him as ‘Augledh’ for he had told her his name, but she could not yet think of him as anything other than ‘orc’. His lips had curved upwards into a smile that showed many pointed teeth, and made Héowyn feel rather like a rabbit being watched by a wolf. The sight of it made her lower stomach flutter rather strangely, though she only allowed herself to attribute this feeling to fear caused by such a predatory sight. Yes, fear, that was it.  

Without another word, Augledh turned and opened the door. He paused for a moment as he listened for any disturbances in the night, and when his sharp ears heard none he slipped out and away. Héowyn hardly heard him depart, and she felt shock that such a large creature could move so swiftly and so stealthily. The woman closed and bolted the door to her home, walking back to her bed with her new gift in hand feeling rather like the last few minutes hadn’t really happened. When she reached her bed, she felt a sudden wave of exhaustion that crushed all curiosity she might have to see what exactly her gift was, and so she carefully placed it on the floor beside her bed. She not so carefully fell down onto her straw-stuffed mattress, letting out a little huff of air as she did. Héowyn’s eyes fell shut, and she was asleep in what felt like seconds. Serendipity tags: @jennifromthebak

Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea @cd1242 @strongandfreedc @pixierox101​ @jotink78​ @luna-xial @underthemoon-imagines

[boseongkrp]

( OC, jeon wonwoo, he/him ) — introducing SHIN SEOMIN, the 24 year old GRAVEYARD KEEPER, known around boseong as THE OMEN. the residents would describe him as soft earth, sunflowers and a strand of silk catching the light.

now loading his interview....

trigger warning : fire, injury by fire.

PLEASE TELL US MORE ABOUT YOURSELF.

seomin eyes them warily. “who’s asking?” he wants to know, voice soft. he sits at ease, posture lax in his habitual slouch, but his hands are tightly clasped in his lap. “my name is shin seomin. i’m twenty-four years old. i was born here, i live here, and i’ve never been anywhere but here, which makes me like, what, eighty percent of other people my age here? – so you could probably talk to them instead for a more interesting interview.” he presses his lips together tightly. he seems nervous. “can i go now?”

shin seomin. reserved, standoffish, with a gait that suggested he was always trying to make himself as small as possible, he had a difficult time making friends when he was younger, as if the weight of his family name wasn’t enough:

decades ago, the first shin had taken up partial responsibility of the cemetery – some say because the shins had once been a family of prestige that greed whittled away over time, and others say because the shins were of a breed that fed off the lingering energy of the dead.

whichever the case, the mantle unfailingly passed down to the next generation, to the next, to the next, until it was passed it down to seomin’s great grandfather, who passed it down to the eldest of his sons, who passed it down to his beloved daughter: seomin’s mother. her unfortunate lifetime so far has seen her left by her husband before she even realized she was carrying seomin, the deterioration of her vision, and the burning of her home five years ago. the freak accident left her with severely injured hands that prompted an early hand-off of her duties at the cemetery to seomin before he even finished high school.

the stigma of his name had shrouded him for as long as he could remember, but it had never been so suffocating as it was during those last few years of high school. many saw the fire as a sign that the shin family was cursed, and although seomin was seldom outright bullied for it (for what if he cursed their homes to burst into flames too?), it certainly guaranteed that he had very few, if any, true friends by the time of his graduation. busied with working odd jobs to help pay off his mother’s hospital and physical therapy bills, he watched others leave boseong while he stayed and convinced himself that he wanted to stay.

rumors continue to follow him today, of dark magic and curses and unspeakable evil, but now that they aren’t confined to a classroom with him anymore, people talk more easily. they whisper behind his back, they dare each other to sneak into the graveyard to get a glimpse of the “reaper,” they call the flame-touched house that his grandparents built themselves decades ago a witch’s den and trample his mother’s flowers and leave her dead things disguised as offerings.

whether the two residents of that slipshod house notice or not, one can never be sure, but the offerings are always gone by morning and the flowers are always replanted before sun sets on the next day, and seomin remains a quiet but unnerving presence around boseong, like the ghost of the moon in the early hours of morning.

SO WHAT DO YOU THINK OF BOSEONG?

“i try not to?” seomin offers with a slight smile, before bubbling into a small, awkward laugh. “really, um. i don’t know. i feel like i’d have a better answer if i had somewhere else to compare it to. boseong’s liveable, i guess.” he pauses, looking down. “it’s like drinking medicine, you know? you just have to hold your breath while you swallow so you don’t taste it, except you’re really holding your breath every day.”

HAVE YOU EVER LEFT OR THOUGHT ABOUT LEAVING BOSEONG?

“have i ever thought about leaving? when don’t i?” he mutters, only to glance up sharply when he realizes that he has voiced his thoughts out loud. he chuckles again dryly, one of his hands instinctively coming up to rub the back of his neck.

flustered might be one way to describe his reaction. tentative is another. ashamed.

his hand slides listlessly back down his neck to fiddle with something through the worn fabric of his sweater – a chain that holds an old engagement ring, engraved with their family name. “the cemetery’s been in my family for so long, i can’t just leave it. i can’t leave my mother either– her hands are only just getting better, and now her vision’s going too. i’m the only one who…”

he tapers off, adam’s apple bobbing seemingly with the effort to hold back the rest of his answer – or perhaps at a loss for a good one.

“there’s still a lot to do here,” he says with a small nod. “i’m fine where i am.”

WERE YOU CLOSE WITH HA EUNMI? WHAT WAS YOUR IMPRESSION OF HER?

“we only really talked once. it was in the library, and she asked me to grab a book that she couldn’t reach. she was two years below me, but somehow she knew my name, and… and she actually called me by it. didn’t look scared of me or anything.” seomin fidgets with the fabric of his jeans restlessly. “i always thought she was one of the good ones since. i usually don’t like thinking of people like who’s bad and who’s good, because i don’t think it’s ever that simple, but…it felt like she was one of the good ones.” he shrugs slightly, but it’s clear from his tone that it means more to him than he lets on.

“i always thought she didn’t belong in a place like boseong,” he confesses, “like she should be somewhere…more, you know? somewhere nicer than this.” the corners of his lips twitch, before he shakes his head and his expression smooths back out into neutrality again. only a hint of regret remains there: “she deserved better. she deserved anything, honestly, except what she got instead.”

DO YOU HAVE A DARK SECRET THAT NO ONE KNOWS OF?

<   R E D A C T E D   >

[sage-nebula]

Farm Beautification Efforts

As some of you may or may not know, I have become obsessed with Stardew Valley over the past month (having clocked 170+ hours into it), and during this time I’ve wanted to take steps and measures to beautify my farm, since I’ve seen some videos of people whose farms are truly gorgeous and it really makes me want to work on my own. Of course, there are a few problems with this. One, I’m not the best designer, and two, I’m playing on Switch, so I don’t have access to any mods, including cool ones like ones that allow you to put furniture on your porch or add cool items to the game. Nevertheless, I’ve been doing my best, and so I thought I’d share some screenshots of my efforts.

First up, the inside of my house! The top floor has the living room, along with the nursery which will be forever unused and unoccupied (save for two Junimo plushes) unless something is added that makes having the children actually worthwhile. I have a storage chest full of gifts blocking entry into that room for specifically that purpose. On the bottom floor we have the kitchen and dining area (complete with my in-game husband Sebastian), along with a little reading area over by the fireplace (which is on the bottom floor to help keep things warm in winter, because heat rises), and of course, the bedroom and Sebastian’s spouse room with his terrarium, computer, et cetera. The tea table in the bedroom is more for Sebastian than myself, since I learned recently that he loves jasmine tea, so I figured it’d be nice to set up a little tea area since I got a tea set as a gift from Pam. I also decorated with the idea that the house should represent both of us, although when Sebastian changed the wallpaper and flooring in the kitchen I immediately changed it back because his choices were hideous. Sorry, Seb.

Oh, and of course . . .

The basement is a starfruit wine cellar, too. ;)

Outside! Seb’s motorcycle is in the back, with Epona’s stable close by the house so I can have easy access to her. The crystal on the porch rings when you tap it; although no one ever uses it, I like to think of it as a doorbell. The decorations in front change every season.

The shed here is less a storage shed and more a production shed; I forgot to take a picture of the inside, but that’s where I have my kegs, five preserves jars, looms, mayonnaise makers, cheese makers, workbench, catalogues, furnaces, crystallariums, et cetera. At some point I might add another, but this works well enough for now. I also have the well there, and I suppose it’s useful, but since I have sprinklers set up everywhere I don’t need to water things as much, so that was mostly to fill space. I’m still trying to think of what to do around it.

The greenhouse, fruit tree grove, grandpa’s shrine, silos, and mill. I have some preserves jars right by the grove, as you can see, so I can easily chuck some fruits into them; even though standard fruit preserves don’t earn as much as starfruit preserves, it’s still worth it, I feel. The greenhouse exclusively makes starfruit, ancient fruit, and sweet gem fruit year-round. I would have taken a picture of the inside, but . . . I forgot again. :/ I decided to use wood pathways along the grove because I felt it better fit the nature feel of it. I do this in a few other places as well, such as . . .

The flower/beehive area. I learned recently that if you grow flowers near beehives, the honey is worth more, because it’s flower-flavored. So I set up a little area for that to happen. The lightning rod area is also there, but I’m thinking of moving that, or else possibly getting rid of it altogether since APPARENTLY lightning rods don’t guarantee that lightning won’t destroy shit. >( But we’ll see. It just looks so ugly compared to everything else . . .

Down here we have the lava eels in their pond of lava. The pond was actually a standard water pond at first, but the lava eels changed that soon enough . . . somehow. I’m not sure how. But then again I’m also not sure how a Dwarf Scroll III helps them be healthier, but that’s what they said would help them, so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The ways of the lava eel are mysterious indeed.

This is the piggos’ area, and as you can see, at the time I took this picture the truffle hunt was in FULL SWING (or kind of wrapping up, since they usually go in around 5/5:30). Truffles aren’t appetizing to look at at all, but they fetch a high price, especially since I have a skill perk that makes all of them Iridium Quality no matter what (for those who don’t play, Iridium Quality is the highest quality). Although I’m not much a fan of piggos, I have twelve of them for this reason. Their names are Waddles, Grumpig, Cello, Rukie, Chetso, Nokaboo, Zuburu, Rollo, Kotso, Wilbur, Spoink, and Pignite. You can probably tell which ones I named intentionally, and which ones I just randomized lol. Also, normally I’d provide grass for all the animals, but finding truffles in grass is difficult, so the piggos just have to live on hay in the barn. It’s fine, they’re all just as happy, it’s not as big a deal.

This is the non-piggo barn area, and . . .

These are the community barn animals. As you can see, I have six cows, three goats, and three sheep. Unfortunately I did not manage to get a picture of the cows smiling, which sucks because they have the cutest smiles. Their names are:

Brown cows: Hershey, Nestle, Ferrero, Ghiradelli

White cows: Kabelle, Brime

Sheep: Wooloo, Dubwool, Mareep

Goats: Faff, Tellono, Knockell

Again, you can probably tell which ones I purposefully named and which ones were randomized. Fun fact, Ferrero and Ghiradelli are Nestle’s daughters. Somehow. I have no idea how because there are no bulls in this game. My working theory is that Hershey and Nestle are wives and somehow gave lesbian birth to Ferrero and Ghiradelli. Until ConcernedApe himself tells me I’m wrong, I’m right. (Note: Either Kabelle or Brime could be the other mother as well. The only for-sure lesbian mom is Nestle.) Also, I named all the brown cows after chocolate brands because brown cows make me think of chocolate milk. I have no idea why, they just do.

This is the coop area, and . . .

These are the coop animals! As you can see, I have five chickens, four rabbits, and three ducks. Yes, the coop outside area is much smaller than the ones for the barn animals, but the coop animals are much smaller themselves so they don’t need as much space. Anyway, these lovely little animals are named . . .

Void Chicken: Ghost

Blue Chicken: Cojiro

Brown chickens: Hetta, Bamello

White chicken: Winona

Rabbits: Cinnamon, Jazz, Lucky, Melody

Ducks: Goose, Zillo, Psy

Again, probably obvious to tell which ones I named and which ones I randomized. Also, for anyone who is like, “Scrawlers, ‘Cojiro’ should be spelled with a k,’ no, you are wrong, I did not name her after that fool of a man in Team Rocket, I named her after the blue cucco in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, whose name is spelled Cojiro, with a C. So. Just so we’re clear on that.

Finally, my crop area. Top right is growing red cabbages at the moment, I think, while the bottom right is SUPPOSED to have wheat(/hay) through this season and the next, but I forgot to go buy more wheat seeds before Pierre closed up shop. (: The top row is all blueberries, while that huge patch in the middle is corn since corn grows in both summer and fall and continues to reproduce after first harvest, so I don’t have to worry about replanting in that huge area again until spring. And then over on the left I have hot peppers, which (like the corn and blueberries) continue to reproduce after first harvest, and reproduce like every four days, which is nice.

And lastly, to check in with some of my scarecrows, THIS guy is a champion and truly earns his title of “deluxe scarecrow,” given how many he has scared away. And on the other end of the scale . . .

We have this guy, who has never worked a day in his life.

The duality of scarecrows.

[floral-suits]

Little Flower and Haz

There are several benefits Y/N could name off the top of her head to working at the flower shop on High Oaks. Right next door is a dainty coffee shop cleverly named ‘Deja Brew’ and across the street is a tattoo parlour that she’s been wanting to venture into for a little while now. Inside of the shop, it always smells of fresh jasmine and rose and the owner Martha is truly the sweetest. However, Y/N particularly likes the part about Harry, the tattoo artist who periodically comes inside to sketch flowers in the corner to then turn them into art on someone’s body.

The first time she met him was around five weeks into her job. She was carefully watering the daisies near the front of the shop when the bell near the entrance rang, signalling a customer. She looked up for a second from the flowers, looked back down, and then quickly sprang her eyes back up again. It was quite a surprise for her, seeing who just walked in. It’s not an unusual occurrence at the shop for a twenty-something year old male to walk in, it is unusual when the said male has tattoos wrapping their way up and down his arms and several facial piercings. However, he doesn’t seem nearly as scary as the usual tattooed boy is to Y/N. The smile on his face is rather endearing, as are the messy curls on his head.

“You aren’t Martha,” he murmured under his breath once his gaze finally reached her face. His smile wasn’t as bright anymore.

She took in a deep breath and started to repeat the standard introduction that had been drilled into her brain, making sure to put the crooked smile that Martha seemed to love dearly on her face, “Hi, I’m Y/N,” she started, taking notice of the rose tattoo that crawled up his right arm, “I’ve been helping out Martha for a little while now. Can I possibly help you with anything? Perhaps one of our roses could interest you?”

His eyebrows creased in as he frowned at the girl, looking almost concerned. Y/N doesn’t know why. “It seems it’s been far too long since I’ve last visited. How long did you say you’ve been working here, love?”

His british accent became more apparent as he annonciated his words. “Just over a few weeks now, long enough for her to trust me to open up, I guess!” she tried to joke, a light blush covering the apples of her cheeks. He didn’t laugh with her. “Do you think she’ll be back later? I’ve got to go but she’s got something that I need.”

About a hundred thoughts crossed through her mind as she processed the small amount of information that he’s given her. Martha couldn’t possibly have something him, could she?

“It’s just me today, maybe I could inform her next time I see her?” she proposed, trying to get the boy to leave as soon as possible. She didn’t want to tell him that Martha was coming back later that day,  he was becoming more and more sketchy by the minute and she still had no idea of his relationship to the shop nor his relationship to Martha. “That sounds alright, yeah,” he agreed distractedly. Before she’s able to ask for his name for Martha, the bell was chiming again and he’s out the door. That was it.

It was only two hours later when Martha scurried inside, back from taking her cat Milly to the vet. Milly had tried to eat one of Martha’s succulents that she hadn’t gotten to hanging up yet and was throwing it up. Y/N, of course, already knew this and just didn’t want to reveal it to the tattooed boy.

“Y/N, darling, how are you? Were you okay opening up by yourself? Any customers?” she questioned, giving the girl a large hug and putting her cardigan down. “It was all good, there was an odd visitor though. He was asking for you,” Y/N revealed, walking out of the hug and towards buckets of soil.

“Did you catch his name?”

“Nope, he looked around my age though. Had a lot of tattoos on his arms. And he had an eyebrow piercing I think, or maybe it was a nose piercing…”  Y/N tried to describe the boy while scooping up some of the dirt and then replanting a few of the garden plants, “He was pretty tall, and his hair was nice and curly.”

Her eyes flickered up to Martha’s, watching her cover up her mouth in attempt to muffle her laughter. “Darling, that’s Harry. He’s one of my nephews, couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.”

“Are you sure? He seemed so sketchy. His words were, ‘She’s got something I need.’ What could he need from you?” she began to voice her concerns, scared that he’d be some kind of gangster… he sure looked like one. She still couldn’t understand how in H-E double hockey sticks the sweetest woman that she knows and that boy could be related.

“Couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted,” Martha repeated, “He’s just got too much of a fragile masculinity, he’s a real soft one at heart. I bet he came in for the rose that I planted in the back, he’s the one who wanted it.” Y/N was still unable to comprehend that Harry wasn’t anyone of harm, “Him?” she gasped, “I don’t believe you!”

And she was perfectly entitled to question his wants, he just walked away, ending their conversation effectively and she had no say in the matter. He was domineering in his actions and not at all inviting like Martha was to Y/N when the two had first met. Not to mention, his intentions seem blurred. Why would he want a flower?

Martha shook her head at Y/N’s surprised face, still quite amused at the situation but happy that the two had finally met. She’d been wanting Harry to get a nice girl on his side for far too long, someone different from the girl who’s always hanging at his side with no manners. What was her name again? Oh yeah, Camille. “Yes, him.” She chuckled, not trying to hide it anymore, “Why don’t you go deliver it to him? He works across the block at the tattoo parlour.”

While Y/N had always wanted to check out the shop, she didn’t really want to see Harry again. His presence was just a bit unsettling, he stood a bit too tall and his voice was a bit too monotone. Nonetheless, she didn’t have much of a choice because Martha was already halfway across the shop, wrapping up the rose in a light pink ribbon and handing it off to Y/N. By the time she finally opened her mouth to argue, Martha was shooing her out the door.

So now they’re here.

Harry certainly wasn’t expecting the girl he had found inhabiting his aunt’s shop to walk into the parlour where he works. But here she is; the same eyes staring back at him that he had seen earlier in the morning. His gaze drops to her hand which carries the wine-red rose that he’d asked Martha for and then it moves back up to her face. She seems just a bit distressed with a slight squint in her eye that Harry wouldn’t have been able to notice if he wasn’t examining her.

“Thought I asked for Martha, not you.”

She blushes again and Harry can’t tell if he hates the look of it or if he wants the rest of her body red as well. He settles on the latter of the two. “I know but she insisted that I came instead, wanted me to deliver this to you… what do you need with it anyway?”

He sighs and decides to let her in on just why he needs the rose in the first place, “I’ve been working on some flower tattoos for a little while now. Needed some to sketch, y’know? So I told Martha and she insisted on growing some specially for me. Guess this is one of ‘em.”

“Are you any good?” she asks. Once seeing the smirk growing on his face, she quickly adds on, “At the sketches, that is.”

He walks up to her. (Closer than he’s ever been, yet). He’s close enough for her to make out far and few moles and marks on his face. She can see the faint gold in his green eyes and she can smell the faded scent of cigarettes and mint on his breath as he breathes out. He snatches the rose out of her delicate hands and places it on a nearby counter, “I’d like to think so, petal.”

----✿✿_____

The following morning is bright; Y/N wakes up at six o’clock to the sounds of birds tweeting and to the image of the sun rising through her open window. She’s unable to fall back asleep, her curiosity hasn’t faded and her mind is awake, wandering into a region that seems to be specifically dedicated to Harry. She doesn’t know why; he’s been nothing but rude to her and she isn’t even sure he’s that good of an artist. But somehow, she’s still interested. So she hauls herself out of bed and goes into the shop two hours earlier than when it opens.

She finds herself staring at the wall of peonies in the back for a good minute before plucking a mahogany one out from the middle. She wraps it in a ribbon similarly to how Martha had done and finds a card and pen in one of the drawers nearby. Before she knows it, she’s out the door and heading towards Harry’s tattoo parlour.

Now as for Harry, he likes to enter his shop bright and early to get started on whatever he’s unable to finish from the previous night. And that just so happens to be the rose. He’s walking up the steps to open up his shop when he sees her. She’s delicately placing what looks to be a peony onto the handle of the door. He walks up behind her body and plants a hand on her shoulder, “What are you doing, petal?”

She freezes up for a second and then relaxes her stance; maybe it’s from the shock of his presence and maybe it’s from the unexpected pet name. Who knows. “I-I brought you a flower. Thought you’d like it,” she quickly says, handing him the peony that she was starting to attach to the knob. When he doesn’t immediately react, she takes a step back.

He grabs her hand in his own before she’s able to rush away, unable to deny the tingling sensation that he gets from holding her smaller hand in his. “I do. It’s gorgeous,” he murmurs, bringing it up to his face with his free hand for a closer inspection. Her eyes watch as he dances it around, eyeing the soft perennial plant.

Y/N takes the chance to escape the situation as Harry admires the peony, muttering something unintelligible and running off towards her own job. Harry finds himself in Y/N’s shoes, watching her run off with no goodbye. He wants to just turn around and go back into his own shop but instead finds himself keeping an eye on her figure until it makes its way into Martha’s shop safely. It’s an odd urge, really; feeling the need to make sure the girl is safe. However the urge that’s much more odd is the one to go after her and give her bum a few swats, let her know that she isn’t to run away from him. He doesn’t act on that, instead waiting until she’s inside and turning himself around to unlock the door to his own parlour.

Once inside the parlour and after letting out a needed exhale, he gently unwraps the ribbon and finds a small note written on a piece of stationary with small pink hearts on the border and ‘a note from Y/N’ written at the top in a cute font.  It makes a small smile appear on his face, as it’s just what he’d have expected from a girl like her… what even is a girl like her?

This one seems to fit your taste. Maybe you can make something out of this as well.

xx Y/N (the flower girl)

He collects the note in one of the several empty drawers and delicately places the flower inside of a vase (like he had done the rose after he was sure Y/N was gone). He finds himself his leather sketchbook that’s getting to its final few pages from all of his scribblings and a soft 2B pencil before sitting up on a stool and getting to work on the flower.

Within a few minutes, he’s crafted the basic anatomy of the peony and within an hour, the intricate detailing into each of the petals and finally lining it all. He can tell that it’s much more than just a sketch to him when he takes a step back and sees just what work he’s put into it. Instead of keeping it in his sketchpad for future reference like he does most designs, he tears it out and writes down a short note in his chicken scratch (he realizes that he had never actually thanked her for the flower, only admired the peony). It’s just nearing eight o’clock in the morning when he walks the street to Martha’s shop.

He makes eye contact with his aunt as he delicately places the sketch down, letting her know with a small nod in the direction of Y/N that it’s for her. All the confirmation that he gets of her knowing his message is a knowing smile. It’s enough for him though, so he walks back down into the shop and gets ready for his first client of the day; a good friend of his named Zayn who’s been looking for a mandala tattoo already in mind.

----✿✿_____

The first customer to grace the shop with his presence is a boy most likely around Y/N’s age looking quite frantic. He’s got blue eyes and lightly bleached hair, she finds him quite cute if she’s being honest. Certainly not comparable to Harry, though. Wait, what?

Y/N doesn’t feel the need to call up Martha to the front for help as she already knows just what the boy needs with just a single look at his face.

“What did you forget about?” she questions with a roll of her eyes. She’s seen this scenario so many times in the month that she’s been working; hectic boyfriend who forgot about said event until the last minute. It can range from anniversaries to birthdays, Y/N feels like she’s seen it all in her short amount of time at Martha’s shop. She quite enjoys guessing what it could be (although she doesn’t always get it right). The worst she's encountered would have to be from her own ex Liam. He had forgotten completely about their anniversary. He came tumbling in to the flower shop that she worked at just minutes before closing time at seven, begging for her forgiveness. And no, he didn't buy her any flowers while he was there. For some reason that she now regrets, she forgave him. It was only after she found him cheating on her with a long legged blonde a few weeks later that she said her goodbyes.

She’s snapped out of her thoughts as the boy lets out a well needed exhale, seeing that she’ll be able to help him easily. “Need to get a bouquet, maybe some lilies… daisies? Nothing too much. My girlfriend’s little sister is graduating junior high today, she’ll have my head if I don’t bring something for her.”

Y/N works her way around the counter, grabbing an array of lavender, white, and purple flowers from around the shop. The boy watches in wonder but doesn’t say a word as she crafts a beautiful bouquet, wrapping it in first a small layer of tissue paper and then some sort of a recycled paper, tying it off with a pretty bow like she did Harry’s peony. “Does this work? Feel like it’s a nice blend for a girl her age, yeah?”

Instead of a verbal answer, she finds herself in the blonde’s arms with several pecks placed on her cheek, “You’re a lifesaver, thank you so much!” She watches in shock as he puts down a fifty dollar bill and walks out the door. It’s an extra thirty dollars that and sixteen cents over the price that he needed to pay but Y/N doesn’t bother running after him as he scrambles out the door hoping that he isn’t too late, instead just laughing.

It’s only after Y/N deals with the boy that Martha hands over a small piece of paper. “Lovie, would you look at what Harry drew? He’s got real talent, that boy,” she chuckles, “Say, you were thinking about getting a tattoo not too long ago, bet I could get him to fix something up for you!”

“Maybe!” she chuckles, admiring the artwork. She can’t deny the fact that she’s intrigued by the idea; there’s always been an appeal to tattoos from her, especially when the tattoo artist is ridiculously attractive. The idea that she can get an image embedded on her skin forever is something so interesting to her. It could be arousing in some ways, like a hickey that won’t ever go away, a mark from someone that’s permanent. Not to mention the masochist in her that finds the pain of a needle so pleasurable. No one would ever guess that she’d be into things like that with her innocent, delicate looks.

Flipping the piece of paper over, Y/N finds a handwritten note that she can only assume is addressed to her. In contrast to her own handwriting, his isn’t as ditzy and his letters aren’t curved. She’s able to hear his playful, yet somehow patronizing tone in her head as she reads it to herself.

Thank you for the flower, petal. Maybe next time you can stay and watch me draw instead of running off without a goodbye.

Harry

She decides that next time, she will.

----✿✿_____

“Harry, wait up!” Y/N shouts, jogging after his abnormally large frame that’s headed towards the door. She’s got a peach coloured dahlia in one hand and is reaching for his hand with the other, not really sure how she wants to confront him.

He stops walking at the sound of her voice and turns around, “Got the note, I see.” A light blush coats her face like it had when she first tried to crack a joke with him and she nods. “Don’t like it when you run away from me. Not nice of you at all, petal. Glad you came to your senses,” he reprimands her, holding open the door for her to walk in. Before her mouth is able to fully open in order to make some sort of an excuse, he’s guiding her inside with a hand on her back. She can feel the chill from his rings even with the thin layer of clothing. He pretends not to notice as she shivers at his touch, “Know that you don’t have to clock in until ten thirty. Don’t wanna hear any excuses.”

He sits himself down on one of the couches in the waiting area and wraps an arm around her body so she has to sit next to him rather than on one of the love seats. He’s much more touchy, Y/N notices. “Tell me about that flower you’ve got there, would you?”

His question reminds her why she had followed him down into the parlour in the first place, “This is a mignon dahlia,” she starts, fidgeting with the stem of it in her hands, “they’re apart of the daisy family actually, Asteraceae. They’re really pretty, I think. They’re quite sensitive though, need a lot of care. Y’want to make sure it stays in rich soil, they require plenty of water and fertilizer. Pieces of work, they are. If you want them to properly bloom, make sure to give it good care.”

Somehow in Harry’s mind, the flower that she’s speaking so passionately about reminds him of the girl in front of him; so delicate and fragile. She’s got this innocent and pure vibe to her and while Harry doesn’t know much more than a name and job, he feels the need to protect her and keep her safe.

She watches with wide eyes as he grabs the flower from her hands, “Would you let me braid it into your hair? Promise I’m good, my sister says so.”

She nods, a laugh escaping her lips which then causes Harry to do the same. “Let’s get down on the floor and then in between my knees, petal. Get comfortable for me.” So she does, sitting herself in between his long legs. She sits up straight but is immediately scolded with Harry pulling on a section of her hair just enough to get her attention without actually hurting her in any way, “Said get comfortable, not stiff. You need to relax for me.” She decides to listen to him and relaxes her back against his front with her eyes closed, “Good girl.”

He splits her hair into three sections, starting a basic plait down her shoulder. He’s not proud to admit it but it’s the only plait that he knows how to do. Then again, it’s not like he has any reason to know anymore styles; he’s braided his sister Gemma’s hair when he was little, his own a few times for fun back when his hair was at his shoulders, and now Y/N’s.

----✿✿_____

It develops into some sort of a routine for her; gifting Harry a flower and a kiss on the cheek before she goes in to work. This morning, she decides to pluck a peruvian lily that has an orange coloured foliage to match the romper that she’s wearing. She doesn’t want Harry to know this, but she’s wearing the article of clothing for him after he flattered her the last time she’d worn it, claiming that it ‘complimented her eyes wonderfully’. She’ll also never let Harry know about the matching lace bra and panties that she’s wearing under it. Just in case, she tells herself despite never touching Harry with more than a kiss on the cheek. But whatever, the details don’t matter that much!

Maybe she’s being a tease. She really doesn’t know though, considering their relationship is platonic for the most part. She doesn’t know if he’ll notice the lace under the romper or the small kitten heels that she’s got on her feet.

The only thing she’s certain of is that she shouldn’t be distracting him (too much). She isn’t even working today, she’s just come to be around the person that she’s slowly grown a crush on. She asked earlier in the week if she could watch him tattoo someone. She tried to make it seem as if she wanted to see the art process but it’d be a lie if she said her reasoning behind wanting to watch him work was anything other than seeing his arms flex as he grips the machinery and his eyes focus intently on his art. He agreed to her request, telling her that his friend Niall was going to be getting an addition to his sleeve on the coming Saturday and that her only rule was not to distract him while working. His exact words were, ‘no shaking that bum ‘round too much. Need to concentrate’ which she’s still yet to completely understand. However, it’s now Saturday and Y/N never made any promises.

He notices. Right away. The peruvian lily is added to his collection (which at this point is filled with at least a dozen different coloured flowers from Y/N) and Harry finds himself toying with one of the straps of her romper. “Did you wear this for me, petal?” he hums.

“Maybe,” she smiles shyly, happy that he’s focused his attention on her but slightly surprised.

That’s when Niall enters the studio, causing the two to break apart.

“Harry!” he greets, giving him some sort of side hug. He’s clearly one of the more touchy kinds of people. His attention quickly turns to the smaller girl standing beside Harry. Recognition graces his features as he scans her face, “Hey, aren’t you the one who helped me get flowers fo’ my girlfriend’s sister?”

Her eyes lighten up, now knowing that the man isn’t going to be any intimidating. She’s now able to identify his blue eyes in her memory. “Yeah, say, did she like them?”

His face bulges, “She loved them, darling. I have to ask, though, what are you doing here?”

Harry joins the conversation again to explain that Y/N wanted to watch him do his art. Niall lets out a laugh and lets her know that he’s completely fine with it as they all make their way to one of the rooms, the design already sketched out and ready to be tattooed on to Niall’s skin.

Y/N sits down by the side on one of the couches in the room as Niall sits himself down on the adjustable chair and rolls up his sleeves to reveal the start of something wrapping around his arms. While the both of them get comfortable, Harry rolls a pair of latex gloves onto his hands, she’s able to clearly see the indentation of his rings underneath. “So, first things first, we’ve gotta stay sanitary. Gonna have Niall shave down the area and wash it and then we’ll put down the stencil and get going.”

The preparation goes by quite quick and Niall’s completely relaxed as the needle touches his skin for the first time today. Meanwhile, Y/N gasps causing both Harry and Niall to laugh.

She watches in wonder as Harry goes on, first lining the general shapes and then going in with different shades and pigments. Harry explains what he’s doing at first but stops talking as he gets more concentrated. After about two or so hours of watching Niall’s almost bare arm transform, she begins to get restless. But hey, don’t blame her! Watching Harry’s muscles flex as he grips the machine can keep her entertained, yes. Watching Harry make art can keep her entertained, yes. But not after two hours and not when he won’t pay her any attention because he refuses to make a single mistake.

The tattoo is probably around half way done when she gets up and starts walking around and trying to look from different angles. Harry doesn’t pay too much mind to her other then a quick glance. But she needs more than that. So she does what any girl would do to get a boy’s attention; the bend and snap. She’s learned from the best (that being Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde). Somewhere in her head, there’s a voice saying that it probably isn’t a good idea to purposely distract Harry while he’s putting something permanent on Niall but oh well, she ignores it.

She learns quickly that Harry doesn’t like being distracted from his work. At all.

“Y/N, sit still like a good girl, would you? Only a little while longer,” he asks, no, commands, stopping the machine entirely so he’s able to glare her down. He subtly adjusts his pants before pressing his foot back down on the pedal to finish the final touches. It looks amazing, Y/N can’t deny it. While Niall stands up to check out the magic that Harry’s done on him, Harry walks over to Y/N’s figure that’s still on the couch.

Good, he thinks. She’s clearly rethought her actions and he can tell from the way her head lifts up with a look of hope as she mouths the words ‘sorry’. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that he very easily could’ve fucked up Niall’s arm and for that, he continues to glare at her.

After walking Niall to the front and waving him goodbye with his newly inked arm, Harry whisps her away to one of the more private areas of the shop. One of his hands wraps around behind her neck, tilting it up so she’s forced to look into his emerald eyes, “Were you trying to tease me, my little flower?”

“No, I--” she’s quickly interrupted by a tsk, “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. Y’know I don’t like liars.”

That she does most certainly know. She also happens to know that he doesn’t exactly like being distracted. He had in fact told her that before she even came in. Little minx.

She knows that he values eye contact and likes to use pet names like ‘little flower’ and ‘petal’. He rarely calls her by her real name. He doesn’t enjoy people who leave without saying goodbye and he likes having control. He raises an eyebrow when Y/N fails to answer him but then lets out a sigh, “If you try to play this game again or sommat, don’t expect to get away so easily next time.”

“‘M sorry, wasn’t trying to-” he cuts her off again by placing his ring finger against her lips. He has half the mind to replace his finger with his lips but decides against it, instead muttering, “Really wanna kiss you.”

Little does he know that Y/N has had the same urge as him for a while now.

“Please.”

Oh. Before she can process through what she had meant to say in her head and not out loud, the both of his large hands are cupping her jaw and angling it up towards him. His lips meet hers softly at first but with a growing intensity as they go on. The proximity, the Tom Ford fragrance flowing through her nostrils, and the cold metal of his lip ring that contrasts with his warm lips… it’s all too much and too little at the same time. Y/N gasps and parts her lips which only gives Harry the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Suddenly, she’s kissing him back.

Her hands move up to tangle themselves in his hair on their own; she provokes a low groan from his lips by tugging up. To any bystander, it truly looks like one of those Nicholas Sparks movies that Harry would never admit to loving. The urgency, desperation, and temptation all melt on their tongues. Harry only breaks away once his breath is completely gone.

“Would you-” Harry pauses, trying to find the right words after breaking away for air. “D’you wanna go to that diner that opened downtown w’me sometime?”

“For a date?” she asks, placing one of her hands atop of his. A smile graces its way onto his lips as he nods, “Course it is, my baby flower.”

----✿✿_____

Harry is usually quite relaxed when it comes to things like getting ready for a date. Hell, with his velvet voice alone he could probably convince a girl to join him going dumpster diving. But that’s usually and this isn’t his usual. No, Y/N’s different. So instead of just throwing on a white shirt and jeans, he finds himself rolling up the sleeves of a button down in a shade that happens to match her eyes.

Meanwhile, Y/N’s stressing out all the same. She hasn’t been on a date since Liam and the insecurities from that relationship seem to be piling onto this one. She’s got on the yellow skater dress that she bought specially for the occasion but is starting to doubt her choice. Sure, Harry said it was a date but what does that even mean? Is it a friendly date? When they last saw each other, was it just a friendly kiss?

A knock sounds through her apartment walls and a quick glance at her phone tells her that it’s six thirty and Harry’s waiting for her at the door.

She slips on her flats and opens the door to a more dapper looking version of the boy she knows as Harry.

“Got’ya some flowers,” he smirks, pulling out a hand from behind his back to reveal a set of dancing ladies. He doesn’t let her know that Martha picked them out and instead allows her to set the delicate blossoms in one of the many vases on her countertop.

He leads her to his car, a Jeep Wrangler. She tries to get up into the passenger seat herself but it’s much harder than it looks and Harry eventually has to step in and pick her up. She finds herself feeling even more flustered than usual at the feeling of his hands on her but tries to ignore it the best she can. She turns a knob on the radio control, hoping to find a song that’ll calm her nerves.

The first chord to The Chain by Fleetwood Mac registers through her eardrums and she finds herself singing along to the voice of Stevie Nicks. When Harry’s voice joins along with her, she knows for sure that she made the right decision when she said yes to going out with him.

----✿✿_____

Y/N’s feeling more than a bit tipsy by the time they’re heading to Harry’s jeep. Harry hadn’t noticed how lightweighted she was until they’re both buckled in and a hand pats down on his thigh. The action doesn’t surprise him nearly as much as her words do, “Want you to give me a tattoo, Haz.”

He ignores the nickname that she branded on him, “How much did you drink, petal?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, thinking thoroughly through her answer, “Had my glass of wine. And a few sips of yours I think,” she then repeats her earlier thoughts, “Want you to tattoo me. Want your mark on me.”

She’s awarded a blank stare, “You’re drunk, little flower.”

“Pretty please?” she whimpers. If Harry’s vision wasn’t on the road, he��d be able to see the puppy dog pout on her face that always worked when she was younger and wanted something.

“How about we wait until you’re sober and if you feel the same way, we can talk some more, alright?”

She reluctantly agrees after getting him to pinky promise and after that, the rest of the drive is considerably quiet. She finds the dials on the side of the car to be more than entertaining and plays with them until they get to his house.

Once arriving there, she’s still quite awake. It’s only after gulping a few ‘pretty coloured pills’ courtesy of Harry to help cure her hangover tomorrow morning that she begins to tire out in his arms on the couch.

----✿✿_____

“What is it that got you into tattooing?” Y/N asks a few days later. She’s lounging around in Harry’s studio due to it being one of her free days and neither of them have mentioned her drunken requests.

“What is it that makes you want a tattoo?” Harry smirks, letting her know that he hasn’t forgotten whatsoever about what she said. “Want my mark on you, is that it?” he mocks her words with a raise to his voice to imitate hers.

She goes to burrow her face into his neck but is stopped by his hand grasping the upper part of her jaw, “Still up for it, petal?”

She bites her lip but doesn’t say no. “Maybe you can… I don’t know, sketch some orchids and we can go from there?”

Drunk words truly are sober thoughts. Harry is surprised by the fact that she’s actually considering it but sits up to grab his sketchbook, nonetheless.

He keeps one hand on her thigh, rubbing it softly as he begins a sketch of budding orchids, Y/N’s favorite.

Much sooner than later, he’s nearly finished and has given Y/N adequate time to back out.

“And where do you want it, petal?” Harry asks the pretty girl sitting in front of him, taking a quick glance up from his sketchbook. “Hipbone.”

He hums in response, finishing off the final touches of the orchids before placing the book to the side to give her his full attention. “I’m gonna need you to pull up your skirt then once you’re leaned back all the way, alright?”

She bites her lip before complying, inching the skirt up until it rests against her waist. Her panties are on full display and she does her best not to blush red like she normally does when she notices Harry eyeing up her thighs. His eyes snap back up to hers and meet them in a long stare. He’s the first to look away, trying to remain professional for his girlfriend’s first tattoo.

“This is gonna be cold,” he murmurs before spreading the disinfectant over her skin. There’s an amused glint in his eyes as she yelps from the cold liquid that he’s spreading over her pelvic bone. He takes his time while placing the stencil of orchids down on her, more than he usually would. The hairs on her thighs raise up as she shivers at his touch.

She stands up out of the chair to make her way over to the wall mirror, making sure that she likes the placement of it. He stays in his place by the chair, watching her with an unidentifiable expression on his face.

“Looks good, Haz,” she says, sitting back in the chair and hiking her skirt up again so he’s able to access the skin. She watches as he gets set

“And you’re sure you want this?” He asks for the last time while pulling on a pair of latex gloves, making sure that she’s positive about the permanent piece of art that’s going on her body. “Sure as I can be.”

With that, he turns on the machine. One hand goes just above her knee, curving inside towards her thigh to steady it and one gripping the tattoo machine.

The moment that the tattoo needle pierces through her skin, she’s a goner. A complete and utter goner.

The feeling of short pinches coming from it make her hot all over. There’s this subtle pleasure that she gets from the needle, perhaps its the masochist in her. Perhaps its the endorphins swimming through her blood from the thrill of it. Perhaps its nearly because Harry is her tattoo artist.

A breathy moan escapes her lips, causing Harry to squint up at her. “Need a mo’?”

She closes her eyes for just a second, collecting herself and then mutters, “I’m fine, thanks H.”

He contemplates questioning her more but ultimately decides against it and continues lining the orchid.

Eventually he gets to a more sensitive area where her skin is much thinner. That, combined with the feeling of his hot breath as he leans over her and him squeezing her thigh unknowingly all contribute to her thighs clenching together. It’s just too much and she’s almost positive that if Harry looked, he’d be able to see her soaking through her panties.

Harry certainly notices her thighs squeeze together as one of his hands happens to be in between them. They aren’t even half way through the tattoo. Harry switches the machine off entirely and sets it on the side table next to them. “Petal,” he coos, rubbing one of his thumbs on the curve of her thigh where his hand was resting earlier.

He’s clearly gathered the reaction that she’s gotten from the ink. His eyes dip down to her  lace panties before going back up to her face, “Soiled your panties, my little flower.*”

Seeing the expression gracing her features, he quickly adds on, “It’s okay, petal. It’s alright.”

She looks back down towards where her hands are clutching either side of the chair tightly. “No s’not. it’s odd and I—“

He interrupts her mid rant by tapping his finger underneath her chin, signaling for her to look back up towards his eyes. When she doesn’t do so, he uses a stern voice, knowing that she won’t disobey it, “Y/N, look at me.”

She does so reluctantly and meets a darkened and slightly dilated version of the forest green that she’s grown used to.

“You like the pain?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

She nods her head, deciding it’s better not to lie to him. “We’re gonna play a game, sound good?”

She nods again.

He hums and explains, “So I’m going to finish off the rest of your tattoo. And if you can get through the time remaining without trying to rub off against me and be a good girl, I’ll lick your sweet flower out until your juices are dripping down my chin, okay?”

The filth pouring out of his mouth is nearly enough to get her off right there on the spot. She has this urge to listen to him, to show him how good she can be for him. It’s the same urge that she’s had for a while now, just much, much stronger. She nods but then confirms with a, “Please!” after seeing the look that he gives her; one that reads, ‘use your words’. It’s a look that she’s seen several times before.

He turns back on the machine and gets started back on the coloring, acting as if he hadn’t just said things that would make Martha faint if she ever heard them.

It’s nearly impossible for her to make it all the way through the rest of the tattoo. Harry doesn’t play even close to fair with his little game. He inches his hand higher and higher up her knee, pretending that he isn’t doing anything wrong whatsoever. It’s only when a whimper leaves her lips due to his hand bumping against her clit as he’s adjusting the setting on the machinery that he acknowledges the situation that he proposed earlier on.

“Gonna need to earn it, petal. Not gonna give in to your whines,” he tuts, pinching her lightly. “B-but-“ she tries to badger with him, “But what? My mouth isn’t even on you. No need for whining yet.”

He keeps going. He’s nearly done with the tattoo but he hasn’t finished his fun so he starts to tease her even more, letting his thumb drift down against her clothed clit and rub before removing it quickly. It’s subtle and quite honestly Y/N probably wouldn’t notice it if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s her clit that he’s touching.

When he finally pulls away and wipes down her hip with some anti-bacterial, she isn’t sure whether to be relieved or stressed for what’s to come.  

“Did so good for me, flower,” he lets her know, looking into her eyes. He admires her for a moment, not moving, “M Proud.”

“Are you really?” She asks, dazed as can be. The adrenaline from getting the tattoo done is coming down on her, putting her mind in a state of clouds and happiness. “So proud,” he assures her, bandaging up the area.

“Still want your prize?”

“God, please!” She begs, rubbing her sticky thighs together in a desperate attempt to create at least some kind of solution to her current torment.

Harry nods, “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

He rips off the latex gloves and carelessly throws them on the ground before gathering Y/N in his arms so he can bring her to the couch that’s at the side of the room. He places her down gently, spreads her legs, and hikes up her skirt so that he has complete access to the place he’s been wanting to explore since he first saw her. One thumb rubs against the inside of her thigh and the other tugs on the side of her panties, plucking them off of her so she’s bare to him.

He first runs his fingers down and up her entrance, collecting her wetness before bringing the same finger back up to his lips and sucking it all off while maintaining eye contact, “Delicious, petal. Got me an appetite.”

He leans down to her mouth watering peach and dives in, eating her like she’s his last meal. With almost no time to take a breath, Y/N screams when he starts licking up and down with no hesitation. His stubble tickles the back of her thighs and his nose rubs against her pubic bone. He gets lost in the way she tastes, not coming up until he himself needs to take a breath and then diving straight back in. She comes undone in minutes, tears pouring out of her eyes and her back arching up off the couch. It’s only after Harry licks up every last bit of her taste that he comes up with a grin and a horrid pun that’s way late, “Get it? Soiled your panties? Because you’re a florist?”

send me feedback and requests here 

find my masterlist here

[365elephantsoap]

THANKFUL FRIDAY

The transition from Winter to Spring is tumultuous in my neck of the woods. There are signs of Spring by mid-March, but then everything seems to go into a holding pattern for weeks while we jump back and forth between 70 degrees and just above freezing temperatures. The greens of the tulips I have planted in my front yard have been up and out of the ground for weeks and weeks now. Some of them look like they’ve been chewed on. The same could be said for the tulips they plant in the gardens at work. The green parts have been out of the ground for ages without any hint of a bud. I have seen this all over the city with the tulips. Even the redbuds have had tiny purple or white egg shaped buds on them for week without actually blooming. The tips of the tree branches have little swirls of red or green that just might unfurl into leaves.

I thought that maybe my tulips just wouldn’t bloom. They are old bulbs and I have been told by the gardeners at work that I really should replant every three years. They replant the tulips bulbs at work every Fall. I feel like I was doing well to plant the bulbs years ago in the first place. I am surprised every year when they pop up out of the ground. It is the same feeling I have whenever I discover eggs in the chicken coop. I found four eggs in there the other day, with Margarette hovering over them because most of them were her’s. That same day, I was walking outside at work and noticed that there were flower buds nestled inside each green swirl of leaves. These were joyful moments indeed, but when I noticed that my very own tulips also had buds, my heart leaped.

Moving from Winter to Spring is a practice in patience and humility. I always think of myself as a very patient person. Yet, the time between Winter and Spring strains my patience to the thinnest when I want everything to be in bloom with consistent days of warmth. I should not have to wear my winter coat to work in April. Some times, when I am driving to a new destination, I get slightly anxious about turning on the right street. I always get the feeling that I’ve missed the street but the reality is always that I didn’t drive far enough. This was something Chris and I would laugh and joke about. It’s always further than you think. Moving into Spring is just like this except instead of driving, I am waiting. Seeing the buds on the tulips this week just tells me that we’re close. We haven’t missed it. We just haven’t waited long enough.

Drive a little further.

[joyfullynervouscreator]

Walking in the Gardens 5

So it seems I never actually posted part 5 to Tumblr, oops.

5  Full story on Ao3

The helini in Findis’ hairpieces have sparked a fashion among the ladies of the house, and I find myself pestered endlessly with requests for this colour or that; it makes me even more certain that none of these ladies – a few are clearly Vanyarin and should know – are aware of the meanings attributed to certain flowers.

I’m quite sure Indis’ First Handmaiden is not secretly married, for example, though the sprig of myrtle in her hair is usually an emblem of marriage and wedded love.

Those of us among the servants who do know, have made a sport of it; it is slightly funny to manage getting these ignorant Noldor to wear flowers with the most outrageous meanings simply because they find the combinations pretty.

Cormo laughs when I tell him, but humbly asks me not to play such tricks on Ecetindë. I don’t tell him that I’d never dare; she is only now beginning to warm to my presence, almost four months after arriving at the house. I have, however, made him swear her to secrecy; it wouldn’t do to ruin our fun by giving away the game. Instead Ecetindë is the recipient of carefully chosen white hyacinths because she is quite lovely, even though she still scares me a little.

She doesn’t seem to believe that I have designs on her husband anymore, though, and we’ve even managed a few tentative chats when I come to the kitchens for meals. She is quietly funny, I’ve found, possessing a scathing wit that fits well with the rest of us and her willingness to take a joke, even at her own expense, has made her much more well-liked than most of the people who arrived from Tirion with Lady Indis. Of course, being a more than capable swordswoman who has a tendency to do drills in view of the kitchens – she knows Cormo likes to watch her train, and we all like to tease him about it – made us more leery of her in the beginning, but she is slowly becoming one of the household.

Maybe we’ll be friends one day. I’d like that.

 I’ve added random flowers to the usual helin I bring for Findis’ trays, but she only seems to want to wear the helin – I tell myself to feel less pleased than I do about that fact – though she will wear other colours, too. I give her yellow ones, though some have different centres – I used to give her only white-and-yellows, but as I get to know her better, I feel more confident in adding colours to the mix even if I keep from giving away anything more than fondness belonging to friendship; with the house-wide game, the other Vanyar are watching everyone’s hair carefully, trying to spot the combinations that change the meaning of a single flower, and Findis is not exempt from scrutiny.

She still sings for me every morning, though, or I tell myself she does it at least partially because I like it; my own secret gift. I know she has seen me tending the indili, pruning the tree, cutting the hedge maze, weeding, and any number of tasks that leave me within earshot of her window. If she didn’t like me listening, she would close it, wouldn’t she?

 Altorno finally arrives, greeting me with a peck to my forehead as usual. I loop my arm through his, taking him on an extended tour of my efforts; I am proud of my work here, the things I have managed in the short time these gardens have been mine to keep. Altorno laughs, looking at me like the daughter he never had – his lover went off with Ñolofinwë and never returned – and lets me babble about plants and flowers, adding advice here and there.

I end up telling him about Findis.

We’re standing by the bed of helini, and he looks at me like I am silly – I am – for wanting to keep the pumpkin where it is; it is larger, now, though not yet too large to be moved. It might survive replanting, though it would end up smaller than the other pumpkins by harvest time if I moved it now.

Altorno smiles at me, and I appreciate that he doesn’t chide me for my fanciful notions more than I can say. Instead, he chuckles, shakes his head, and sets his mind to the task at hand.

I want Findis’ pumpkin to thrive, to look the best it possibly can. It will be a gift for her, some day, I think, a half-formed idea in my mind as we work with fertilizer and irrigation.

I spend several days working with Altorno – I am showing off, because it feels good to have my work appreciated by someone who knows how much effort it actually takes to make such a beautiful garden – feeling transported back yeni to the time when he was my Master. He still has things to teach me; a gardener’s work never ends, and I don’t realise that I’ve been missing Findis’ singing until more than a week has passed by. I have been bringing the flowers to the kitchens dutifully – I keep Findis’ flowers separate from the basket I use to cut the ones the ladies of the house order – but I haven’t seen her at all.

Altorno smiles at me, reaching out to squeeze my hand gently, his encouragement silent as it so often is, when I abandon him around the time Findis usually brushes her hair to pretend that my indili need tending.

The windows never open.

They don’t open the next day either.

Gossip being what it is, I learn that Findis is staying in her room, or sitting with Indis, neither of them speaking. The though hurts me more than I expected, feeling guilty for taking away the small moment of brightness from her day; somehow I feel at fault, as though she needed my half-hidden presence to keep singing.

I miss her singing.

 I haven’t seen Findis for more than week when I finally bump into her on my way from the kitchen – I was made to abandon my muddied boots – carrying an armful of raindrop-dotted flowers destined for Lady Lavarë’s room.

“Good morning,” I say, giving her my best smile, but Findis does not respond, turning down a side corridor without even acknowledging my presence.

That, too, hurts more than I thought it would.

I’m not even cheered by the thought that Lady Lavarë’s room will be telling any Vanyar who enters that she is expecting. Coimasiel had laughed hard enough to make Ecetindë ask what the bouquet meant, joining in our mirth at the thought of the unwedded maiden’s unintended announcement.

Looking after Findis, her soft steps making no sound on the carpet of the corridor, her dark hair carefully plaited into her hairpiece, I feel my mood sink further.

She’s not wearing the helin anymore.

 Altorno tries to cheer me up, but my mood is as dark as the heavy rainclouds above our heads – I am hurt, and angry, and angry that I feel hurt, feel slighted, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve done something wrong, something to make Findis sad. Her face has returned to that strained grief she wore so familiarly when she arrived here, not even a glimmer of a smile, of sunlight, in those lines, as though the absence of the yellow flower has a meaning too.

I bring the flowers faithfully, still, even though I know she doesn’t wear them; even Cormo remarks that the vases used to have only one flower when the tray was removed from Findis’ room.

 I try to catch her, apologies lining up behind my teeth, but – even though I didn’t see her that often before – Findis seems to have vanished from any place likely to contain my presence. My heart still clings to that stubborn longing for her real smile, even as I try not to remember it, try to tell myself I knew this would happen; why would she care for me, after all?

I miss her.

  Of course, then she does vanish from the house. Gone to visit Ingwe, so they say.

 The rains continue, matching my bleak mood.

[artificialqueens]

The Lost Princess {Biadore} Chapter 1 -C*NT

A/N: This was a prompt that was sent to my sideblog, and I thought this would make a great multi-chapter AU because it’s looselybased off of my favorite Disney movie ever Tangled. I’ve changed quite a few things around, there’s more of a back story for Flynn/Roy, I felt uncomfortable using Roy’s moms real name so I decided to name her Isabelle. Some other Rugirls will be making appearances as well (Jinkx as Mother Gothel, Manila as the Queen’s maid etc.). Adore will be a cisgirl in this fic so I apologize in advance because I know that’s not everyones favorite thing in the world to read. This chapter is on the short side to start the story off, but I promise I’ll spoil you with extra long chapters as the plot thickens. 😉 TW: Murder/Death that could be potentially interpretated as a way to commit suicide, please read at your own risk-it is a small scene but I still like to warn. TW for Depressive thoughts as well. Sorry for my obnoxiously long A/N, please enjoy the story!

Long ago, a golden drop of sun fell from the heavens and onto the soil below, just on the outskirts of what would become the kingdom of Corona. From that single drop, an enchanted flower grew and blossomed; and for many years it laid untouched on the edge of a high cliff.

An old red headed witch named Jinkx, was traveling from deep within the forest in search of herbs was the one who stumbled across the flower first. She had grown ill with a deadly plague and was in search of medicine. The flower had a bright golden aura around it, one that she had never seen before. As she sang and picked up the nearby mushrooms, she noticed the flower began to radiate with light. Her hands that were old and brittle felt strong again, and she heard her voice become clear and young once more. Realizing the flower had mystical powers, she decided to hide it under a wicker basket, and keep the flower hidden from any travelers passing by.

Many, many years passed and her secret fountain of youth remained untouched: until now.

—————-

The summer night was dark and swampy, an evil energy settling slowly upon the forest. Something was not right, and it wasn’t just because the Queen of Corona was ill, and still expecting.

“Mom, I don’t want to keep going into the woods.” The young boy cried, being drug by his mother’s soft, tender hand. They had been hiking all day now, and Roy wanted nothing more then his own bed.

“Roy, we have to go.” The woman cooed, leading the way out of the city and towards the depths of the forest. “There’s a flower I need to heal your father, and it’s buried deep within the forest.”

Roy pouted, making a disgusted face as he wiped his hair out of his eye. He was 5, and already had enough of the outdoors to last a lifetime.

His father had fallen ill with what the village doctors believed was a deadly virus. The doctors said there was no cure: but Roy’s mom believed the only thing that could help him was a mythical golden flower that was gifted from the sun. It supposedly grew on a cliff many miles outside of the city; which is where they were headed now.

“Mom, how can you believe in something you’ve never seen before?” Roy asked.

“It’s called hope. Hope is when we see light, despite being surrounded by darkness. We must always have hopes and dreams Roy, never forget that.”

“I have a dream! One day we’ll get to go meet the new princess and the king and queen!” Roy exclaimed.

His mother smiled at him, stroking his face sweetly.

“You can do anything you set your mind to. Guess what? We’re almost there honey.“ She comforted, holding his hand as they padded through the forest. Suddenly, Roy felt a chill go down his spine. He shivered as they continued to make their way down the dirt path.

Something didn’t feel right to Roy, he wasn’t sure what it was but he knew he wanted to leave.

“Mommy, I want to go home.” Roy whimpered, grabbing onto her dress.

The two of them stopped at what appeared to be a cliff ledge. There was a small basket over a small golden light

“Could it be?” She breathed. She ran towards the basket, lifting it up slowly. Underneath it was the golden flower they had been looking for!

“It’s beautiful.” She murmured. Roy gazed down at it in awe. The flower was glowing a bright gold. It had purple flecks in the center and smelled incredibly sweet. Roy’s mom began to dig up the flower gently, but was interrupted shortly after she began to remove the roots from the earth below.

“Just what do you think you’re doing with that?” An ominous voice boomed from behind them. Roy jumped up, scared as he looked around.

“Who’s there?” Isabelle called. She motioned to Roy to hide behind a nearby rock where she could still see him.

“The owner of that flower, my pretty. I wouldn’t dare take it if I were you.”

“No one owns this flower, besides I need it to help heal my husband.”

“You were clearly misinformed.” Jinkx retorted.

“I don’t believe I was. You can’t stop me from taking it.” Isabelle began to pull the plant close to her chest when a woman with vibrant red hair appeared out of the deep woods.

“I warned you, you are not to take the magical flower.” Jinkx approached, glaring at the younger woman.

“What are you going to do about it?” Isabelle challenged, gazing into the red heads beady brown eyes.

Jinkx smiled sweetly, snapping her fingers as she began to sing a song. Roy covered his ears, the witch sounded terrible; and he didn’t want to risk getting caught up in whatever was about to happen. All he could do was watch on with horror as his mom froze in place.

Jinkx cackled after she was finished singing, approaching her with ease. She stroked the magical flower with her long white fingers, removing it from Isabelle’s hands easily.

His mom was frozen in place from whatever spell Jinkx had just cast, Roy realized. After she replanted the flower below her feet, Jinkx stared at the young woman with pity.

“You’re much prettier then most of the ones who try to take this from me. I guess I’ll spare you a slow and painful death.” Jinkx groaned. With a swift shove, Isabelle was thrown off of the ledge of the cliff and down into the deep canyon below.

“No!” Roy screamed, running out from behind the rock.

The witch cackled, placing the basket over the flower.

“You’d be a fool to try and take it.” Jinkx warned as she dissappeared into the forest.

Roy stared down at the golden flower, and realized there was nothing he could do now. If he tried to take the flower, the witch would kill him too. He sat down in front of it, and realized he had no chance of saving his father either. He would most likely be an orphan by the time he got back to the city.

He couldn’t dare look over the cliff ledge where his mother had fallen to her death. He knew that night, that something had changed within him. He was not the same sensitive little boy that he was only hours ago. This morning he was innocent, skipping through the town square with his friends and daydreaming about the future. He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything right now, he had to find his way back to the city without dying.

Roy laid down next to the flower and allowed himself to weep softly. What was the hurry in getting back now?

Shattering the silence of the forest, 5 palace officers with torches had approached.

“Halt! Hands up young man.” The large man ordered.

Roy sat up and threw his hands up in the air willingly.

“Roy? What are you doing so far away from home? Your dad has been worried!” The large man, Roy had nicknamed ‘Bunny’ asked. Roy would follow Bunny around the city and play pranks on him with his friends. Somehow, Bunny had taken a liking to Roy, and always let him off easy with a warning whenever they got into trouble.

“Me and mom came for the flower.. but she was killed.” Roy sniffled.

The guards all exchanged a sympathetic look, nodding their heads in agreement.

“Bunny, take Roy back home.” The captain paused. "This is the flower right?”

“That’s it, but there’s a witch hiding in the bushes who will kill you!” Roy yelled.

Bunny leaned down to crouch on the ground so that he was eye level with Roy. He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“That witch won’t be bothering us Roy. You see, we’re big men with weapons and she would be a fool to want to mess with us.” Bunny grinned, picking Roy up and flinging him over his shoulder.

“Why do you guys want the flower? Are you going to bring it to my dad?” Roy asked hopeful.

The captain frowned and avoided eye contact with him. Roy felt Bunny tense as he set him back down on the ground.

“I’m sorry Roy, but we won’t be bringing the flower to your dad.” Bunny said sadly. “We have royal orders to bring it to the Queen.”

“For the princess.” Roy realized, tight lipped. These guards really didn’t care about him. They just wanted the flower for the unborn princess and the queen. They could care less about the poor boy from the city with no mother and a dying father.

He was realizing people really didn’t care about one another; it really was every man for himself.

“Are you okay buddy?” Bunny asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“I’m fine.” Roy said shrugging the guards hand away. “Just take me home.”

The officers finished removing the flower with ease, but deep in the woods Jinkx watched with rage as the men left.

She knew they could only want it for one thing: to save the queen and her unborn child.

Which meant the princess would possess all of the magic. Her lips curled up in an evil smile as she began to hatch a new plan. Hope was not lost for Jinkx.

————-

"Your highness, the magical golden flower that you requested.”

The king took the flower, examining it with awe. He smiled for the first time in weeks, happy to finally have something that would help his wife and unborn daughter feel better.

“It’s beautiful.” The queen whispered before coughing violently. Her body heaved as she tried to stop, but the more she tried the longer she coughed. To the King’s horror, Queen Bonnie was deteriorating in front of his very eyes. Her plump pregnant belly was the only sign of life left on her tiny frame.

“See that the cooks receive this at once to make into a soup for the queen.” He ordered.

“As you wish sir.” The maids scurried off into the kitchen to have the magical flower made into a healing soup.

“I promise, you and the baby will be okay.” The King of Corona stroked his wife’s forehead.

“I hope so.” She smiled weakly, holding his hand.

——————–

Bunny had escorted Roy inside of his house before he followed the rest of the guards back to the palace. Roy was greeted by Courtney, a young blonde woman who had been the family’s doctor for years. She was quite beautiful, and had piercing blue eyes and pale skin. She frowned as Roy approached, not knowing how to tell him the news.

“I’m so sorry Roy, but your father succumbed to his illness late this afternoon. Where is your mother?” Doctor Courtney asked.

Roy looked off into the distance and shook his head. He didn’t want to go into detail, it’s not like she cared.

“She’s dead.”

“What?! What happened??” Dr. Courtney exclaimed, reaching out to touch the young boy. Roy shrugged her off, and moved away quickly.

“She was killed by a witch.”

“A witch?! What did she look like?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll never find her. Just take me to the orphanage.” Roy said coldly. Roy was sick of the sad look in all of the adults eyes. He didn’t want to be pitied for losing both of his parents, especially since he knew no one cared enough about him to actually adopt him. It cost lots of money to adopt, he knew because his parents had wanted to adopt a baby girl before his dad had gotten sick.

Dr. Courtney looked down at the young boy and nodded her head in understanding. She reached out and tried to hug him again, but once again he shut her out. She gave up, and eventually escorted him to his new life in the orphanage.

——————

The queen drank the soup slowly, the flower gleaming beautifully in the gold colored bowl. When she finished drinking the broth, she left the flower inside the bowl and handed it back to one of her maids.

“Your highness, you should eat the flower too; it will do wonders for your health.” The chef suggested watching carefully.

The queen nodded her head, already feeling the strength re-enter her body from the broth. It was the first thing she could keep down in days. She grabbed the flower and chewed on it daintily, surprised that it tasted so delicious.

She finished it quickly, realizing she felt whole again. She sat up in bed, stretching out her arms and the maids clapped with delight.

“Are you feeling better your highness?” Her lead maid, Manila asked.

“I feel great Manila. See that the team that retrieved the flower receive a generous reward from me personally.” Queen Bonnie said. Manila nodded her head and exited the room rapidly, no doubt already preparing the rewards.

Suddenly, Bonnie felt a large cramp in her lower abdomen. She moaned out in pain and grabbed her stomach, gripping it tightly. She felt liquid flood her sheets and realized it was finally happening. She was going to meet her little princess.

“It’s time.” The Queen gasped

[peacefulheartfarm]

Our Virginia Life

This week I want to share our dream with all of you. Perhaps you’ve been dreaming the dream as well and just don’t think you can get there. Sometimes it takes time—a lot of time. But it is so worth it. I encourage you to start today.

Welcome new listeners. It’s so good to have you. And welcome back veteran homestead-loving regulars. Thank you for stopping by the farmcast every week. I appreciate you all so much. I’m super excited to share with you what’s going on at the farm this week and I’m super existed to share the history of our homestead dream with you.

Today’s Show

Homestead Life Updates

Our Virginia Life

Greek Spiced Ground Meat with (optional) Yogurt or Sour Cream

Homestead Life Updates

Garden

Starting with the garden which seems to be at the end of our list of priorities at the moment. The strawberries are overwhelmed with wheat grass. I believe I mentioned that the straw we bought for mulch was full of seeds. I’ve never seen so much waste of wheat. Scott is working on that project today. The carrots are overrun with grass and weeds. I just looked at them. They seem to be holding their own for the moment. It will have to do until Tuesday. That is 3 days from now. Market is tomorrow. Church on Sunday and much needed rest in the afternoon. Cheesemaking on Monday. Hang in there, guys. I’ll save you. And the rest of the garden needs to be weeded and fertilized as well. I still need to get the green beans planted. The peanuts did not sprout and will need to be replanted. And the first harvests will be happening next week as well. I use flowers as pest control but I’m so far behind on my flower starts that the bugs may take over in June. Oh well, we do what we can and don’t sweat it. That’s not quite true is it? We will be sweating a lot come next week.

Cows

Cows are finally getting back into a routine. They really, really don’t like change. We added a new cow. We split up our girls and put one with Butter as a companion. Butter had a calf. All changes. The big one was we changed their feed. Once we changed their feed, all of a sudden the entire herd of Normandes no longer wanted to come into the milking shed and stick their head in the stanchion. I don’t mind so much the ones that we are not milking. But Claire and Buttercup are in milk and have to be milked twice a day. Anyway, we fooled them by putting a bit of sweet feed on top of their nutritional supplement and they are now eating it and getting better about coming into the shed without a lot of hassle. Still some work to do there, but we are making progress. We changed their dairy supplement from a garden variety from Southern States to a non-GMO, non-soy dairy supplement. It’s like a kid that is used to eating McDonald’s and then being switched to organic salad greens. They were pretty petulant. Butter is a different story. She will eat anything you put in front of her and beg for more.

Lambs and Goats

The lambs and goats are doing great. We couldn’t be more pleased with how this group of lambs is progressing. And the goats just keep on keeping on eating weeds and brush that the others won’t touch. They have cleaned up so much around here in the way of small trees that were sprouting, briars, wild blackberry bushes and so on. Good job!!

Creamery

The creamery project has been sitting idle for nearly two weeks. Scott had to fix the bush hog and then mow everything. He built the quail cages for when the little guys get out of the brooder and into their permanent digs. A load of gravel was delivered and he spent quite a bit of time spreading that in the places where erosion and mud was making our lives miserable. A day of digging a trench for drainage out of the milking shed took another day of his time. The days seems to slip by one after another. There is always so much to do and not enough hours in the day.

That update was pretty intense with listing our setbacks on timing. But you know what? We love it and wouldn’t have it any other way. Our lives are filled with purpose and meaning. The geese are strutting around with their gaggles of goslings. The trees are leafing out. The garden is full of all kinds of plants. The calves are a joy to watch as they bask in the sun or galivant around their pasture. We have taken the moment to look at the stars at night in a while. But they are there, waiting for us to enjoy their magnificence.

Our Virginia Life

That brings me to today’s topic. Have you dreamed of living the homestead life? Do you think it is impossible? I want to give you inspiration and share a bit of our journey. It all started in the last century.

The Beginning . . .

Scott and I met in 1999 in western North Carolina. We were two people following similar paths who met and become life-long friends. We apprenticed together at a spiritual training center learning how to teach a meditation technique. This is where we reconnected to our hearts and desire to be close to the land. The dream of our homestead life was born.

During our training we dreamed of a sustainable farm and communal living. We wanted to raise good food as close to nature’s intended way as possible. We knew that experiencing loving relationships with others and soaking up nourishing nature would ultimately help us remember our kinship with God and creation. Two souls had found each other.

Our dream has changed and evolved over time. It continues to evolve. We just took a step and then another and another. Each step clarified our vision. Each step led to the next and sometimes our direction needed to change. So we changed. We continue to take steps and we continue to change.

The first step began 16 years ago and we still don’t have that creamery built. But we love our homestead life and all it brings us.

Buying Land Was the First Step

In the summer of 2003, we bought our first piece of land in southwest Virginia. We rented a mobile home nearby. At this point in our lives we had a great deal of debt: credit cards, school loans, taxes, and now a mortgage. We set out to pay everything off in full. We would have our farm — but we would have it debt-free. We both took on lucrative jobs in Information Technology as the electronic medical records industry kicked off.

Our jobs required extensive travel. We traveled all over the US and to a couple of European countries as well. Every other week we flew home to Virginia to visit our beautiful piece of land.

In 2005 we bought our own mobile home and moved it onto our land. And in the fall, our wedding ceremony took place at the homestead. It was so beautiful. Even though it was November the weather had permitted the leaves to change very slowly. And with very little wind this particular fall, there were many leaves still on the trees. We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect time.

Learning to Produce Food

Our first experience with livestock was raising chickens in the summer of 2006.

The contract we had been working for a couple of years was done. I moved on to a different contract and continued traveling. Scott was done with traveling. He remained on the homestead and built a couple of chicken tractors ala Joel Salatin. He raised, and we processed, around 100 chickens. We ate a lot of them ourselves and gave a lot away to relatives and neighbors. This part of the journey was just a taste to get our feet wet.

Twists and Turns and . . . Texas?

Somewhere along that two-year time period we paid all of our debts in full. The next step along the path was making the money needed for infrastructure.

February 2007 Scott went back to work . . .  in Texas.

I was now traveling to various places around the country every week instead of every other week. I lived in hotels and airports with a too quick Saturday and Sunday at home with Scott. What a far cry from the peaceful life we envisioned. We persevered and dreamed on.

In 2008 we bought an additional 40 acres adjoining our property. We were in debt again. This time for more money than ever before. It’s a good thing that I got to walk around that property occasionally or I might have forgotten exactly why we went into debt again. The “why” had to do with dreaming bigger. We were learning about raising sheep. Still very much a dream at this point . . . we’re still living in Texas. The timeline to move permanently to the homestead kept getting longer. That can happen when you’re dreaming while making good coin.

The constant travel and living out of a suitcase got really old, really fast for me. It was fine when I was traveling with my best friend and awesome life partner. Doing it alone was torture. Within a year I was insisting that Scott get a job closer to home. If I was going to fly home every weekend, I wanted it to be Virginia — not Texas. Scott made it happen.

South Carolina is Closer Than Texas

From the fall of 2008 until December 31, 2016 Scott traveled 6 hours every Sunday evening to Beaufort, South Carolina. A guy by himself doesn’t need much and a travel trailer we purchased for the task was sufficient housing. Every Friday evening, he returned to the homestead in Virginia. Six hours again. He did it alone for the first year and a half. Then I got a job offer . . . just outside of Savannah, Georgia.

We moved the travel trailer to a park halfway between Savannah and Beaufort. It was an hour drive for me and 45 minutes for him. We were completely back together again as a couple.

Then in 2010 I got a job offer at the same hospital where Scott had been working for over two years. I jumped on that like a duck on a June bug. We moved the travel trailer to Beaufort and cut our work commute down to 20 minutes. As we were still driving 6 hours each way, we were actually able to leave a little earlier on Friday as Scott no longer drive backwards 45 minutes to pick me up. We only buying gas for one vehicle. These were small but important steps on our journey.

All of this unconventional living circumstance was worth the huge amount of stress that came with it. After all, we were now back together as a couple. That was great. We were at the homestead every single weekend. That was great. And it was only going to be for a couple of years . . .

Five years later and nearly 12 years into the process, I was stressed beyond my capacity to remain sane. I needed a nest. For the final two years of working in Beaufort, we rented an apartment. Moving from 100 square feet to over 1,000 square feet of living space was just enough nesting happiness to get me through it.

In the end, even that wasn’t enough and we decided to make the leap to full-time homesteaders. That was December 31, 2016. Over 13 years of tiny steps and a couple of giant steps.

Getting that creamery built is the focus of our lives right now. We are over 2 years into that process. The dream keeps going. The dream keeps moving forward.

From Chicken Tractors to Raw Milk Artisan Cheese

Let me back up a little bit and fill in some details of how we grew the farm during this period of time. How did we go from pasture raised chickens to artisan cheese? What the heck happened there? Well, we tried a few different things over the years. In order to succeed as a small homestead farmer, diversity is important. You don’t want to have all of your eggs in one basket. However, having a central core enterprise is also important. So one big basket and lots of smaller baskets was our ideal. This also supports our ideal of living a traditional life where every farming family raised much of their own food in addition to their main crop or livestock enterprise. 

The weekend life allowed us to dabble a bit in a lot of areas. And we read a lot and studied a lot about many areas of interest. We did a lot of trial and error experiments on a small scale. There is so much that can be done on a homestead. Which was going to be the best fit for us? Like a lot of folks, we tried to do too many things at once. Having that central enterprise is the only way to make it.

Early on we were clear that raising the chickens in 2006 was a great learning exercise but not where our hearts were. Having them for eggs and meat for personal use, yes. But not as our central farm enterprise. In 2009 we put in fruit trees. That’s a long-term project that continues to stretch over many years. Also, for personal use at this point, though the orchard will provide a small income at a later date. You know. The date we actually have time to give it attention. 😊

In 2010 we bought a flock of sheep and a donkey as a guardian animal for them. Twelve pregnant ewes and a pregnant donkey. We proceeded along the lines of raising sheep and selling lamb as our centerpiece. We learned a lot over several years. At one point we had over 70 sheep. However, two things happened that prompted us to change our course yet again. An issue arose around raising and marketing lamb. One, we simply didn’t have the land to raise enough livestock to make it profitable – and two, in 2011 something big changed on the homestead. Love crept in, awakened and rapidly altered the farm dream.

I wanted to make my own butter and cheese and I loved drinking raw milk. I still can’t stand the taste of cooked milk. In 2011 we bought cows. With working toward homestead sustainability as part of our mission, we also wanted beef (and pork and chicken and rabbit). And after researching every cow breed under the sun, we settled on the Normande. It’s a dual breed cow. A prolific milk producer as well as producing well-marbled muscle perfectly suited for beef. For more details on these cows, give a listen to the Peaceful Heart FarmCast episode I dedicated to them.

Suffice it to say, I fell in love with these cows. We knew the lamb was not going to produce the income we desired without adding a lot more pasture. Another alternative arose out of the dream. We could build a creamery and make artisan and farmstead cheese. It just happened to coincide with my desire to have more of these cows in my life. To pay for it, how much longer are we going to have to work for someone else? Yes, that’s the decision that drove the planned two years of living in a travel trailer to a full seven years of craziness.

It was so worth it.

Peaceful Heart Farm Creamery is Born

Finally, I’ve gotten to the part of the story where the creamery comes in. It has been a wild and varied journey getting here. But this is the one. We are investing all of our time and energy into becoming a local cheese resource for our community. We will use traditional cheese making techniques to develop our local cheeses. I have two recipes that meet my expectations regarding the product I want to sell . . .  and I have two others that are currently in development. One is failing miserably. Fear not! I will prevail. We are going to produce the best cheddar cheese that Virginia has ever seen! With a slight tweak on the salt, I’m expecting my alpine-style cheese to be a winner this year as well.

The creamery still has a long way to go before passing state inspection. I’ve got a little time to get the cheese right. In the meantime, I’m getting to know you and getting some really good traditional cooking information together for you. If you are buying local food, it pays to know how to prepare it well.

The latest change is the addition of the herdshare program. We became aware of this need some time ago for offering herdshares to our fellow Virginians. Not everyone wants to live this life but they want the benefit of the great food that it produces. One of those great foods is milk from pasture-raised cows. If you’ve been following me, you’ve heard me talk about this before. You can own a piece of a grassfed dairy herd. We provide the land, animals and labor so you don’t have to do that part.

We purchased a lovely Jersey cow from a fellow Farmer’s Market vendor. She has had her calf and is now producing wonderful A2A2 milk. We are offering milk and/or yogurt (full fat or low fat with honey) during the summer months, May through October. November through April cheese and butter will come out of the herdshare. During times of abundance in the summer you may find yourself with a little extra product. Your herd sometimes produces a LOT of milk. And at other times not so much.

What Else?

At some point we added cashmere goats to our livestock. I’m a big knitter and dream of using only 100% cashmere. More and more my skepticism that I will ever reach that goal increases. You can only do so much! For now, they keep our pastures clear of brambles and provide us with some really great nutrition. But their days are numbered. You remember what I talked about earlier? There are only so many hours in a day. So, dream big but keep in mind that at some point, likely you will have to trim it back a little.

At the present time on the homestead, the only food we don’t produce is eggs (and coffee). That situation will be rectified in the next few months. I believe I’ve mentioned before that Scott doesn’t have the time to invest in building elaborate chicken housing and protection. His priority is getting that creamery functional. Instead, we’ve opted for quail. This is 99% my project. Scott will build a couple of cages that will likely take no more than a day or two to complete. The rest is all on me.

With the addition of the quail, all of our food will now be produced on the homestead. We spend hours and hours working, sweating and loving every minute of our life.

We are meeting new people just like you at the Wytheville Farmer’s Market. Come see us on Saturdays 8am to 12 noon. Taste our grass-fed beef, lamb, and goat. Talk to us about your interest in a herdshare and taste our yogurt. There are lots of other great vendors there as well. And remember, you can come directly to the farm on Tuesday mornings 10am to 12 noon or Saturday afternoons from 3pm to 5pm. Call for directions. We’d love to help you get here.

Greek Seasoned Ground Meat Medley with (optional) Yogurt or Sour Cream

This recipe is for my Keto and carnivore friends and listeners. If you have a traditional, diversified farm with all kinds of ruminant animals, this recipe is for you. Or if you are shopping at your local farmer’s market for a variety of grass-fed meats, this recipe is for you. It calls for one pound each of beef, lamb and chev or goat, but you can use any combination of these meats. Or you could divide the ingredients by three and only use 1 lb.

What You Need

1 lb ground beef

1 lb ground lamb

1 lb ground chev (goat)

3 tablespoon butter

Spice Mix

3 teaspoons garlic, minced

1 ½ teaspoon dried oregano

1 ½ teaspoon dried basil

1 ½ teaspoon dried rosemary

1 ½ teaspoon dried thyme

¾ teaspoon ground nutmeg

3 teaspoons salt (less is fine)

3 teaspoons ground pepper

¾ cup water

What To Do

Brown ground meats until fully cooked

Drain pan drippings and add butter (this is actually optional but worth it)

Mix in spices and water

Simmer 5 to 10 minutes

Serve with yogurt or sour cream

Final Thoughts

I hope you found some inspiration to follow your dreams whatever they may be. By continually putting one foot in front of the other, you will get there. Keep the vision in front of you and keep plugging away. Start as small as you need to and build a little each day. It doesn’t matter how long it takes or what route you follow. It really doesn’t. It is all about the journey. You will never reach your destination because there is always another dream in the making. It’s all about the journey and living each day to the fullest. Go for it!

If you enjoyed this podcast, please hop over to Apple Podcasts and give me a 5-star rating and review. Also, we’d really love it if you shared it with any friends or family who might be interested in this type of content.

As always, I’m here to help you “taste the traditional touch.”

Thank you so much for stopping by the homestead and until next time, may God fill your life with grace and peace.

Recipe Link

Greek Seasoned Ground Meat Medley with (optional) Yogurt or Sour Cream

To share your thoughts:

Leave a comment on our Facebook Page

Share this show on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram

To help the show:

PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW for Peaceful Heart FarmCast on Apple Podcasts.

Subscribe on iTunes, Stitcher Radio, Google Play Music, TuneIn or Spotify

Donate on Patreon

Website

www.peacefulheartfarm.com

Patreon

www.patreon.com/peacefulheartfarm

Facebook

www.facebook.com/peacefulheartfarm

Instagram

www.instagram.com/peacefulheartfarm/

NEW!! Peaceful Heart FarmCast Episode. Enjoy!!

[josephkitchen0]

Wall-Mounted Planters are Ideal for Herbs and Small Spaces

Are you like me and enjoy fresh herbs? I enjoy the scent wafting from them as they grow indoors. Many wall-mounted planters are designed to take up small amounts of space yet allow for productivity of your herbs.

You don’t have to have a large space to successfully grow herbs in containers. As a matter of fact, most herbs make perfect container plants. While many people grow them in containers on their decks, porches and even balconies, growing them indoors is just as easy.

Commonly called “windowsill herbs,” the best herbs to grow indoors don’t require a lot of space or light. I don’t mean to say you can put them in a dark corner or anything like that. Of course, they need sun to grow, the majority of living things do.

If you don’t have areas which receive 6-8 hours of sunlight, your herbs won’t perform as well, but they will still produce for you as long as they get some light. Be sure to rotate your containers to prevent only one side of the plant receiving heat and light. Rotating will ensure even growth and productivity.

Ready to Start Your Own Backyard Flock?

Get tips and tricks for starting your new flock from our chicken experts. Download your FREE guide today! YES! I want this Free Guide »

Many people use artificial plant lights to give their indoor herb garden the required amount of light. There are so many options for those who want to grow their herbs in containers indoors and those who have limited space. Even wall mounted planters can be placed in sunny areas or have a grow light focused on them.

If you grow your herbs outside in containers, you’ll have to bring them in or protect them from damaging weather. When you grow them indoors, you don’t have to worry with this. There are even herbs which grow in winter. You reap the benefit of having green plants in your home giving off oxygen and improving the indoor air quality of your home.

Containers

Wall-mounted planters are serious space savers. Besides being practical, they offer you the opportunity to create conversational and eye-catching décor. Most people use container pots for their herbs. Pots, of course, come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors. Then you have the choice of using a hanging basket for many annual herbs.

The type and size of container you choose will depend on how much soil your chosen herbs will need. If they’re annual herbs, they won’t need as much. These do fine in wall mounted planters and even hanging baskets. Perennial herbs require more soil, around 5 gallons of it. Be sure you choose healthy, strong plants for the best success.

I prefer stone, wood or clay pots, but plastic, metal, and ceramic are favored by many. I’ve seen some cute herbs in containers made from reclaimed metal cans. I would just say be careful to not use containers which were used for toxic substances.

No matter which type of container you choose, it must have good drainage. Without proper drainage, your soil will remain wet and the roots will rot. If your pot has a saucer, it’s important to place a layer of gravel or rock in the bottom of the pot or in the saucer for the pot to sit on. Doing so will help ensure proper drainage and humidity levels.

If you see water in the saucer of the container, empty it. Over watering causes more herbal container gardens to die than under watering.

Most garden supply stores have experienced people to help you determine what size pot best suits your chosen herbs. The best way to decide is to read the information tag on the plant. The appropriate size pot is important. If the container is too small, the herbs will become root bound. The tap root has to have sufficient depth as many herbs are known to have long ones.

Soil

Herbs do better in loose, loamy soil. Because they are growing in a container, the herbs won’t be able to find nutrition by extending their root systems. Providing the best soil you ensures they have necessary nutrients. Commercial potting mix is not recommended for your herbs.

Peet moss mixed with garden loam, compost, and coarse sand is the best soil for herbs. I like to add Epsom salts and eggshells to my potting soil. For every 2 gallons of soil add ½ cup Epsom salt and the crushed shells of 4-6 eggs. Throwing in a generous handful of blood and bone meal will provide a sure start for your herbs.

To prepare the eggshells, bake them at 200 degrees Fahrenheit for 20-30 minutes. When cooled they’ll crush easily. Be sure to crush them into fine pieces before adding to the soil.

The goal is to keep the soil light and airy. Some people like to add granular polystyrene to their potting mix. I don’t. I find it causes the soil to dry out too quickly.

There are some commercially available alternatives to potting soil which will work for herbs. These include coconut husk, peanut shells and composted bark.

Choosing your Herbs

Combining herbs with some succulents and flowers creates a striking, edible décor. Wall-mounted planters are excellent for this as you can alternate the plants allowing each one to have its individual needs met. If you do group them in a single container, be sure they have similar light and water needs.

Growing herbs from seed is possible. I have a friend who grew her rosemary plant from seed. I prefer to buy small, healthy plants.

Best Herbs for Indoor Container Gardens

Like we’ve said, with the right amount of light and soil, most all herbs can be grown indoors in containers. There are some which do better than others.

Parsley, mint, basil, lavender, chives, marjoram, thyme, peppermint, cresses, lemongrass (divine), oregano and coriander do excellent indoors. These are small in size. Be sure to choose herbs you enjoy. What’s the point of planting something you don’t like to eat?

Worst Herbs for Indoor Container Gardens

Some herbs don’t do as well indoors but can be grown there with the right care. Rosemary (my favorite), cilantro, and sage are the most common. These are all prone to mildew when over watered. They can also get quite large given the right conditions.

Care

Overwatering and underwatering are the biggest challenges for indoor herbal gardeners. I simply forget sometimes, as I do with my other indoor plants. I forget when I watered last and to water at all!

Overwatering causes root rot, fungi, and gnats (my husband’s most hated bug). Underwatering causes the roots to shrivel which wilts the leaves and kills the plant. Keeping track with a calendar when you’re first starting out is good.

Over time, you’ll learn to go by the feel of the soil and look at your plants. There are some newly fangled moisture checkers available too.

Annual herbs don’t need to be fertilized. You’ll notice they develop an aromatic fragrance and tantalizing flavor when left to the healthy soil you started with. If you chose any perennial herbs, you can encourage them to grow by re-potting them into a larger container. You can freshen the soil when you do this.

You can also freshen the soil in the same pot by removing the plant as if you were going to re-pot it. To refresh tired soil, mix compost, Epsom salt and eggshells with the used soil and replant the herb. If you do this, be sure to not disturb the main root system.

How to Plant in a Wall-Mounted Planter:

Choose the right herb and container.

Don’t use soil potting mix.

Keep track of watering times and check soil regularly.

Rotate containers to ensure even light and heat over the whole plant.

Use mulch to conserve moisture.

Don’t over harvest – never remove more than 1/3 of the plant at a single harvest.

Herbs are resilient. Dive in and start growing the herbs you usually purchase to prepare your favorite recipes, like herbes de provence recipe. Wall-mounted planters make it easy. You won’t believe the divine difference in taste when you use fresh herbs you’ve just harvested.

What creative wall mounted planters or other containers do you use? Share your container herb garden tips with us.

Safe and Happy Journey, Rhonda

Wall-Mounted Planters are Ideal for Herbs and Small Spaces was originally posted by All About Chickens

[wendyimmiller]

Border Control  by  Allen Bush

Edith Eddleman and the Jekyll Border at the J.C. Raulston Arboretum.

I arrived in Raleigh a few days before last week’s Perennial Plant Association (PPA) Symposium. I checked into the hotel and made a beeline for the J.C. Raulston Arboretum. I may sound like an aging rocker on a farewell tour, but it had been ten years since I’d last been there, and I’m not sure when I’ll return.

I’ve had a long history with the arboretum. I was one of J.C. Raulston’s many fans, and for 15 years, when I was living in Western North Carolina, I would visit annually. I met garden designer Edith Eddleman, a longtime arboretum volunteer, in 1981, three days before my daughter Molly was born.

What the arboretum lacks in size (ten acres) it makes up for with inspiration. As Raulston was a prolific collector, there have always been plenty of plant rarities, so I can consistently count on a few surprises—Asian woodland asarums in the lath house or a towering desert Dasylirion wheeleri in the long border.

I’d never seen a Geophyte Garden, however, nor even known what a geophyte was. A geophyte (geo= earth; phyte = plant or growth) is an underground storage organ. OK, I get it—bulbs, corms, tubers and rhizomes. So everything from a Narcissus bulb to a Gladiolus corm to Canna rhizomes counts as a geophyte. Geophyte would be a good word to try and stump your gardening chums with.

The arboretum’s Jekyll Border has long been my focus for garden pilgrimages to the Raleigh area. An army of J.C. Raulston’s horticulture students first planted the border in 1983.  Designer Edith Eddleman quickly found a co-conspirator. She received a letter in 1985 from Doug Ruhren, a  talented gardener whose reputation she had followed via the local grapevine. When Doug asked Edith if she needed any help on the border, she replied, “What are you doing on Thursday?”

Doug Ruhren and Debbie Hamrick with the Perennial Plant Association at the J.C. Raulston Arboretum on August 1st. Brienne Arthur photo.

Leaves of absence, for personal and professional reasons, took them elsewhere for a few years, but they both returned in the Spring of 2012.

Edith and eight committed volunteers meet for a couple of hours every week; Doug was hired as the fulltime arboretum manager in 2017 but still volunteers on the border.

In North America there are not many Gertrude Jekyll-style borders— a whopping big 18’ wide by 300’ long.  Some might argue they are old-fashioned. (English borders are what everyone wanted in the 1980s.) I see the good borders as experimental and dynamic compositions—works in progress. Great Dixter and the Raulston long border are where you’ll find lots of ideas—the dozens of vignettes within the border. Sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t.

Great Dixter’s Fergus Garrett emphasized the risks last week in his lecture at the PPA Symposium. The conductor (designer) must be willing to take a chance and not be too burdened by the conflict between tradition and freedom of expression (mixing bananas with Joe-Pye weed, for example). If the composition succeeds, how thrilling! If it doesn’t, don’t pout about it. Move on. Pull out the offending misfits, and replant. Don’t forget your native pollinators.

The J.C. Raulston long border, inspired by Gertrude Jekyll’s skilled use of plants is “…a distinct scheme of color arrangement based on how the eye responds to color.” Bold foliage— yuccas, grasses and gray and glaucous-foliaged plants anchor the two ends of the border. Each end of the border is a study in contrasts, as strong violet colored flowers might be combined with soft yellow or a pale pink. These delicate contrasts prepare the eye in Jekyll’s words: “…for the splendour of warm…colour harmonies of strong yellows, orange, scarlet and red…culminating in gorgeousness.” When the eye is saturated by these intense colors, it relaxes as it moves over the restful plant combinations that complete the border. Jekyll likened this visual experience to moving from shade into: “…the brilliant glow of hottest sunshine and coming again to the comfort of coolest shade.”

Edith Eddleman cools it down. David Culp photo.

Edith and Doug don’t slavishly follow Jekyll’s use of color, but it is their guiding star. They have a different plant palette. Jekyll used plants suitable for an English garden, such as yuccas and Euphorbia characias. These work well in Raleigh, also, but Edith and Doug experiment with plants adapted for Raleigh’s muggy summers.

OK, so you don’t have the space or the time to do an 18’x 300’ border. It’s August, people. You’re in luck! A small space sounds a whole lot to easier to maintain in late summer than 18’x 300’. Even the smallest gardens can contain plant combinations, adapting Gertrude Jekyll’s color theory:

Edith explains: “At its heart, the long border at the J.C. Raulston Arboretum is about the pleasure of gardening, the infinite possibilities of plant combinations and the promise that this is possible no matter the size of our gardens, large or small, whether we have pots on the terrace or window boxes.

…Here follow a few plant combinations which have brought our interpretation of Jekyll’s border to life in Raleigh, NC—Zone 7b.”

West end color contrasts:gray-green Yucca recurvifolia, the clumping Pycnanthemum loomisii for its silvery foliage and blooms, Galium aristatum with clouds of white flowers, tall spikes of soft yellow Alcea rugosa, Erysimum ‘Bowles Mauve,’ Geranium ‘Rozanne,’ pale flowering Coreopsis, drifts of Verbena bonariensis and soft-lavender flowers of Heliotropum amplexicaule that bloom non-stop from Spring until hard frost.

Color harmonies from the hot center of the border: variegated Yucca rigida, Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’, Asclepias tuberosa, cannas— the burgundy foliaged and orange flowering ‘Intrigue,’ the giant red-flowering Hibiscus ‘Holly Springs.’ Kniphofia ‘Orange Blaze,’ vining Lonicera sempervirens, intense yellow Rudbeckia and Helianthus and a host of Hemerocallis in reds, oranges and apricot-flushed yellows.

East Enders:Canna glauca ‘Panache,’ Salvia guaranitica ‘Black and Blue,’ combined with soft-yellow daylilies, Geranium endressii ‘Wargrave Pink,’ bold-foliaged Phlomis russeliana, white flowered Calamintha, warm-pink Verbena ‘Silver Anne,’ blue-flowering Clematis integrifolia that spills over silver-foliaged Nepeta ‘Junior Walker,’ spikes of white and yellow-blooming Verbascum chauxii with mounds of soft-yellow Chrysanthemum ‘Gethsemane Moonlight.’

Imagine the Jekyll Border as either a short walk or a long stroll. If you’re poking along the border, oohing and aahing, as I tend to do, you could easily spend an hour or more walking from one end to the other in a happy-go-lucky, timeless manner.

I like to stroll the Jekyll border with a friend or two. It’s handy to have a younger friend along, one with a nimbler mind, so you don’t have to put up with my Medicare-ready demographic. We, more often, stumble with plant names: “Um, er…I know what it is; it’ll come to me.” Don’t blame it on Latin. (Oh, we used to be so good with botanic names.) Nouns become an obstacle when you get older. So make friends with young gardeners, and keep a pencil and paper handy.

Seed heads of Rudbeckia maxima.

The big, fat, thimble-shaped seeds on Rudbeckia maxima fascinate me. What a versatile plant.  The yellow blooms look like little somberos. The big gray-green, paddle-shaped leaves are a bonus. I’m going to throw my sombrero in the ring with everyone else who is praising Pycnanthemum muticum for its extraordinary pollinator qualities. It’ll gobble up some space if you’ve got the room. If you don’t have the room, make some room. What a pleasure it was to see the huge white blooms of the towering 12’ tall Eupatorium ‘Bartered Bride.’

I love the arboretum’s Jekyll Border for its richness of colors, textures and imaginative combinations, but mostly I’m crazy about Edith Eddleman and Doug Ruhren. Gardening doesn’t happen in a void. A garden is only possible with passionate, devoted gardeners.

Eupatorium ‘Bartered Bride’ variegated Arundo donax and Salvia ‘Indigo Spires’.

I thought about my mother a lot on this trip. She loved her garden. (I drove by her childhood home in Winston-Salem on my way down.) She would have turned 90 while I was in Raleigh. I know what she would have said if she’d been with me, walking alongside the Raulston long border last week. I can hear her Piedmont North Carolina accent. “I am thrilled to pieces to be here.”

I was thrilled to pieces to be in the presence of Doug and Edith and the Jekyll Border.

Border Control originally appeared on Garden Rant on August 8, 2018.

from Gardening http://www.gardenrant.com/2018/08/border-control.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[athertonjc]

Border Control  by  Allen Bush

Edith Eddleman and the Jekyll Border at the J.C. Raulston Arboretum.

I arrived in Raleigh a few days before last week’s Perennial Plant Association (PPA) Symposium. I checked into the hotel and made a beeline for the J.C. Raulston Arboretum. I may sound like an aging rocker on a farewell tour, but it had been ten years since I’d last been there, and I’m not sure when I’ll return.

I’ve had a long history with the arboretum. I was one of J.C. Raulston’s many fans, and for 15 years, when I was living in Western North Carolina, I would visit annually. I met garden designer Edith Eddleman, a longtime arboretum volunteer, in 1981, three days before my daughter Molly was born.

What the arboretum lacks in size (ten acres) it makes up for with inspiration. As Raulston was a prolific collector, there have always been plenty of plant rarities, so I can consistently count on a few surprises—Asian woodland asarums in the lath house or a towering desert Dasylirion wheeleri in the long border.

I’d never seen a Geophyte Garden, however, nor even known what a geophyte was. A geophyte (geo= earth; phyte = plant or growth) is an underground storage organ. OK, I get it—bulbs, corms, tubers and rhizomes. So everything from a Narcissus bulb to a Gladiolus corm to Canna rhizomes counts as a geophyte. Geophyte would be a good word to try and stump your gardening chums with.

The arboretum’s Jekyll Border has long been my focus for garden pilgrimages to the Raleigh area. An army of J.C. Raulston’s horticulture students first planted the border in 1983.  Designer Edith Eddleman quickly found a co-conspirator. She received a letter in 1985 from Doug Ruhren, a  talented gardener whose reputation she had followed via the local grapevine. When Doug asked Edith if she needed any help on the border, she replied, “What are you doing on Thursday?”

Doug Ruhren and Debbie Hamrick with the Perennial Plant Association at the J.C. Raulston Arboretum on August 1st. Brienne Arthur photo.

Leaves of absence, for personal and professional reasons, took them elsewhere for a few years, but they both returned in the Spring of 2012.

Edith and eight committed volunteers meet for a couple of hours every week; Doug was hired as the fulltime arboretum manager in 2017 but still volunteers on the border.

In North America there are not many Gertrude Jekyll-style borders— a whopping big 18’ wide by 300’ long.  Some might argue they are old-fashioned. (English borders are what everyone wanted in the 1980s.) I see the good borders as experimental and dynamic compositions—works in progress. Great Dixter and the Raulston long border are where you’ll find lots of ideas—the dozens of vignettes within the border. Sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t.

Great Dixter’s Fergus Garrett emphasized the risks last week in his lecture at the PPA Symposium. The conductor (designer) must be willing to take a chance and not be too burdened by the conflict between tradition and freedom of expression (mixing bananas with Joe-Pye weed, for example). If the composition succeeds, how thrilling! If it doesn’t, don’t pout about it. Move on. Pull out the offending misfits, and replant. Don’t forget your native pollinators.

The J.C. Raulston long border, inspired by Gertrude Jekyll’s skilled use of plants is “…a distinct scheme of color arrangement based on how the eye responds to color.” Bold foliage— yuccas, grasses and gray and glaucous-foliaged plants anchor the two ends of the border. Each end of the border is a study in contrasts, as strong violet colored flowers might be combined with soft yellow or a pale pink. These delicate contrasts prepare the eye in Jekyll’s words: “…for the splendour of warm…colour harmonies of strong yellows, orange, scarlet and red…culminating in gorgeousness.” When the eye is saturated by these intense colors, it relaxes as it moves over the restful plant combinations that complete the border. Jekyll likened this visual experience to moving from shade into: “…the brilliant glow of hottest sunshine and coming again to the comfort of coolest shade.”

Edith Eddleman cools it down. David Culp photo.

Edith and Doug don’t slavishly follow Jekyll’s use of color, but it is their guiding star. They have a different plant palette. Jekyll used plants suitable for an English garden, such as yuccas and Euphorbia characias. These work well in Raleigh, also, but Edith and Doug experiment with plants adapted for Raleigh’s muggy summers.

OK, so you don’t have the space or the time to do an 18’x 300’ border. It’s August, people. You’re in luck! A small space sounds a whole lot to easier to maintain in late summer than 18’x 300’. Even the smallest gardens can contain plant combinations, adapting Gertrude Jekyll’s color theory:

Edith explains: “At its heart, the long border at the J.C. Raulston Arboretum is about the pleasure of gardening, the infinite possibilities of plant combinations and the promise that this is possible no matter the size of our gardens, large or small, whether we have pots on the terrace or window boxes.

…Here follow a few plant combinations which have brought our interpretation of Jekyll’s border to life in Raleigh, NC—Zone 7b.”

West end color contrasts:gray-green Yucca recurvifolia, the clumping Pycnanthemum loomisii for its silvery foliage and blooms, Galium aristatum with clouds of white flowers, tall spikes of soft yellow Alcea rugosa, Erysimum ‘Bowles Mauve,’ Geranium ‘Rozanne,’ pale flowering Coreopsis, drifts of Verbena bonariensis and soft-lavender flowers of Heliotropum amplexicaule that bloom non-stop from Spring until hard frost.

Color harmonies from the hot center of the border: variegated Yucca rigida, Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’, Asclepias tuberosa, cannas— the burgundy foliaged and orange flowering ‘Intrigue,’ the giant red-flowering Hibiscus ‘Holly Springs.’ Kniphofia ‘Orange Blaze,’ vining Lonicera sempervirens, intense yellow Rudbeckia and Helianthus and a host of Hemerocallis in reds, oranges and apricot-flushed yellows.

East Enders:Canna glauca ‘Panache,’ Salvia guaranitica ‘Black and Blue,’ combined with soft-yellow daylilies, Geranium endressii ‘Wargrave Pink,’ bold-foliaged Phlomis russeliana, white flowered Calamintha, warm-pink Verbena ‘Silver Anne,’ blue-flowering Clematis integrifolia that spills over silver-foliaged Nepeta ‘Junior Walker,’ spikes of white and yellow-blooming Verbascum chauxii with mounds of soft-yellow Chrysanthemum ‘Gethsemane Moonlight.’

Imagine the Jekyll Border as either a short walk or a long stroll. If you’re poking along the border, oohing and aahing, as I tend to do, you could easily spend an hour or more walking from one end to the other in a happy-go-lucky, timeless manner.

I like to stroll the Jekyll border with a friend or two. It’s handy to have a younger friend along, one with a nimbler mind, so you don’t have to put up with my Medicare-ready demographic. We, more often, stumble with plant names: “Um, er…I know what it is; it’ll come to me.” Don’t blame it on Latin. (Oh, we used to be so good with botanic names.) Nouns become an obstacle when you get older. So make friends with young gardeners, and keep a pencil and paper handy.

Seed heads of Rudbeckia maxima.

The big, fat, thimble-shaped seeds on Rudbeckia maxima fascinate me. What a versatile plant.  The yellow blooms look like little somberos. The big gray-green, paddle-shaped leaves are a bonus. I’m going to throw my sombrero in the ring with everyone else who is praising Pycnanthemum muticum for its extraordinary pollinator qualities. It’ll gobble up some space if you’ve got the room. If you don’t have the room, make some room. What a pleasure it was to see the huge white blooms of the towering 12’ tall Eupatorium ‘Bartered Bride.’

I love the arboretum’s Jekyll Border for its richness of colors, textures and imaginative combinations, but mostly I’m crazy about Edith Eddleman and Doug Ruhren. Gardening doesn’t happen in a void. A garden is only possible with passionate, devoted gardeners.

Eupatorium ‘Bartered Bride’ variegated Arundo donax and Salvia ‘Indigo Spires’.

I thought about my mother a lot on this trip. She loved her garden. (I drove by her childhood home in Winston-Salem on my way down.) She would have turned 90 while I was in Raleigh. I know what she would have said if she’d been with me, walking alongside the Raulston long border last week. I can hear her Piedmont North Carolina accent. “I am thrilled to pieces to be here.”

I was thrilled to pieces to be in the presence of Doug and Edith and the Jekyll Border.

Border Control originally appeared on Garden Rant on August 8, 2018.

from Garden Rant http://www.gardenrant.com/2018/08/border-control.html